


Hir o Meril Thafn (Lord of Rose Pillars)

by erobey



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erobey/pseuds/erobey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A misadventure set in Aman, during modern times. Legolas and Mithrandir are part of a secret organisation designed to thwart the Vanyarin Elves' unseemly meddling in human affairs. The barrier between the regular world and Valinor is about to be broken. Legolas and Erestor must journey to the Severed Realms and stop it before it's too late.(Includes Twins/Legolas)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: The Naturalist Makes a Discovery

### The Lord of Rose Pillars

  
_italics = thoughts_  |  (translations in parentheses) |  Un-Beta'd

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

## Part One: The Naturalist Makes a Discovery

  
The morning was gloriously bright and cheerful, menel gleaming cerulean and cloudless. The air, sweetly scented with the exotic aromas of orange blossoms and sage, moved in a breeze just brisk enough to prevent undo variation of the temperate climate, moist with the kiss of the fresh water spray arising from the frothy pool at the base of a magnificent waterfall careening from a drop of at least 200 metres. The cloudy mist clinging to the base of the cliff side almost obscured the neatly rounded entrance to a little cave while the roar of the robust water plunging into the depths of the kettle shaped lake muted the ever present song of the birds and the chatter and rustle of small woodland creatures.

It was an absolutely magnificent location, highly reminiscent of the numerous coves and falls located throughout Imladris, and appeared to be completely untouched by civilisation, unaltered since the moment of its creation by the loving hands of Aulë and his nature-loving wife, Yavanna.

Thus thought Erestor, noble Noldo Lord and esteemed kinsman to the likes of Elrond Half-elven, Eärendil the Mariner, and Turgon of Gondolin.

Of course, beyond the large elven cities scattered across the immense continent, every place one wandered in Valinor was pristine, immaculate, virgin territory just awaiting discovery and exploration. It was one of the things the elf most appreciated regarding his life in Aman; Yavanna and Aulë were childless among the Valar and had turned their causative instincts upon the lands around them. Being craftsmen with limited resources and an infinity of time, the couple became bored with creations unveiled only a few millennia or so gone by, and thus reconfigured the terrain frequently.

Despite three Ages spent as a warrior statesman for the various Noldor Realms of Middle-Earth, in his heart of hearts Erestor was a student of the environment, a true naturalist, a meticulous cartographer, and a gifted artist himself. He was at peace in this sheltered corner of the world and frequently deserted his home for long rambles through the wilds, searching for locations that whispered to his soul and awoke the desire to capture every detail of the chosen site on canvas.

Not once did he reminisce in longing nostalgia over his time beyond the Sundering Sea or ponder what the world beyond the protective barrier of the Valar was like. Even after enough time had passed such that the lands of Arda under the stewardship of Men would be unrecognisable should he ever chance to glimpse the place, he did not tire of his less dangerous pastimes.

Peace was a blessing for which he thanked Eru continuously over the course of his waking days.

Erestor took his pack from his shoulders and laid it aside, drawing in the delicate scents of the flowering shrubs and pungent herbs lining the flanks of the high, sheer ridge on the opposite side of the seemingly bottomless pool. The very presence of the purifying wind in his lungs uplifted his spirit and caused a comely smile to grace his pleasingly symmetrical features. He stretched, raising his arms high above his head and pushing up onto the tips of his toes, flexing every muscle in his lithe body before falling back to a less dramatic stance.

With a contented sigh he set up his easel and canvas, began preparing his palette, daubing the slender board with a variety of pigmented oily pastes, rummaged through his case for the right brushes, placed a bottle of strong spirits for cleaning and thinning the paints nearby on the ground. With a practised eye he surveyed the scene, arranged the desired composition in his mind, and had just begun the preliminary strokes when a subtle noise distracted his attention.

Immediately his eyes were drawn to the barely visible opening in the rock wall behind the falling water. He waited, respiration suspended, for the sound to repeat, for he was not certain what had generated it other than having a definite feeling it had not arisen from the throat of any animal native to the arboreal paradise. Nothing untoward met his hearing and he exhaled, shaking his head a moment in self-mockery.

_After all these many aeons I am still on guard, even in this secluded haven._

He waited a second more but beyond the rushing clamour of the falls only silence filled the air. He lifted his brush again. 

_But hold a moment; the birds have ceased their calls and whistles; the squirrels no longer scamper and scold._

Erestor's brow furrowed and his lips pursed together in suspicion as his vision once more scanned the far side of the embankment. Nothing stirred other than leaves and limbs swaying in the breeze and the flowing water diving into the lake it had delved. Irritated, for he knew he would not be able to concentrate on painting until his inquisitive mind was satisfied of the cause for the disruption, he set aside his brush and palette and advanced to the pool's edge. Hands on hips, he glared at the black empty spot of the cave's entrance on the other side, positive the sound had come from there.

The reservoir was not too broad and there was no stream or river flowing from it to cut the lush verdure on his side of the cool liquid. Erestor could only surmise that the flood's outlet was below ground. In any case, he could not walk around nor ford across to the cavern; he would have to swim. This gave the former warrior an uneasy feeling in the centre of his gut and his frown deepened.

It was not that he was uncomfortable in aquatic activities, but a lifetime of experience and instinct was difficult to ignore, and all his senses were in an uproar. To swim meant he must leave his long knife behind, a tool he carried out of habit, more an accessory these days than a weapon, and this he was loath to do. He would only be able to take the small dagger he kept tucked in his boot, another trait he had never learned to alter. There was no other choice, unless he would simply leave which he had no intention of doing. Thus the Noldo Lord quickly stripped down to his leggings, clamped the blade between his teeth, and dove into the brisk water.

Unexpectedly the current of the hidden channel grabbed him in its forceful torrent and yanked him under. His nerve held, however, and Erestor opened his eyes as he was dragged deeper, paddling with the current for he was sure he was being drawn toward the cave. His lungs had not even begun to burn before the water became as black as the ink he used in his precise map drawing and he was suddenly slammed hard against a rough, cold surface. He realised he must be beneath the lip of the cliff side. A couple more bangs bruised his shoulder before his questing fingers found the rim of a tunnel through the rock and he pulled himself into it.

In seconds he was flushed out into another deep cistern, this one calm and silent and dimly illuminated from above. Hurriedly he propelled his body to the surface and heaved in a mighty lung-full as soon as his head broke into the free air. This meant he dropped the knife and with a disgruntled roll of the eyes he inhaled and ducked back under.

Finally Erestor retrieved it, tucking the dirk into the waist of his leggings this time, and returned to the surface, pulling himself up onto the powdery grit of the cave's floor. He had barely had time to wring the excess water from his long black hair before he heard the sound again, this time softly echoing behind him in the enclosed space. He spun to pinpoint the origin.

It was a low moan of pain and its source was lying crumpled on the ground less than a metre from his spot.

Erestor hastened to the prone figure and knelt down, gently resting a hand on the injured elf's back, for surely it must be another elf, cautiously inspecting the suffering being for signs of wounds. He could see no indication of bleeding and so he rolled the limp body over. This elicited a sharp cry and a brief flash of agony filled eyes before the elf's lids slipped half-closed again and his ragged breathing recommenced.

"Can you hear me? Who are you? Where are you hurt?" Erestor spoke quietly, not wishing to startle the barely conscious ellon. An indistinct mumble issued from the strangely clad individual.

Bizarre was more like it. Erestor had never seen any elf from any realm in any Age dressed in this manner. The entire body from head to heels was encased in black: leggings, tunic, boots, and gloves all constructed from buttery soft ebony dyed kidskin leather. But that was not the half of it. The elf's head was shrouded. The hair was so completely concealed the Noldo could not understand where the lengthy tresses could be, and even the face was hidden behind a black silk mask so that only a thin slit allowed for unobstructed vision.

He could tell little except that the elf was male, for the leggings clung almost indecently to the well toned thighs and the exquisitely proportioned equipment housed between them, the black tunic having ridden up during the elf's struggles with whatever had harmed him.

One of the ellon's hands was pressed against his side and now Erestor could see that he was indeed bleeding freely; the darker colour of the clothing there and the small puddle of ruddy ground beneath quietly attesting to the seriousness of the situation. The Noldo wasted no more time in small talk. Carefully he removed the cloth mask to ease the laboured respiration and revealed a very youthful and fair countenance beneath a glorious mane of tightly coiled, braided golden hair. Erestor inhaled in shocked amazement. He had seen this elf more than once or twice but was not personally well acquainted with him.

"Thranduilion!" he exclaimed and the glassy blue gaze tried to focus on him. "Legolas, can you hear me?"

"Yes?" the woodland elf whispered, for it was indeed the youngest son of Thranduil, famous throughout Arda for his minor part in the Ring Quest and his enduring friendship with a Dwarf.

"By Eru, whatever has happened to you?" continued Erestor but only another incoherent stammer followed the query.

The Noldo knew he needed to act quickly or Legolas would succumb to shock and likely perish from blood loss. Erestor stifled his curiosity for later and went to work. Using the dagger he cut away the tunic and revealed a vicious and peculiar stab wound. The injury was circular as though the body had been pierced by the thick shaft of an arrow, minus its point. The force required to do such a thing was tremendous, for the hole was nearly a perfect circle. _As if the missile were propelled by a crossbow at close range._ A sympathetic twitch of dread swept through his nerves, imagining the struggle, and Erestor wondered how and where Legolas had met such a brutal adversary. There was no time for more pondering for the situation was too dire. Luckily, the former warrior was trained in field dressings and soon had the oozing puncture tightly bound with the silk material of the discarded head covering.

With care Erestor cut off the remains of the ruined top and revealed a series of welts and lash marks all over the silvan's torso and arms. He was certain the elf's back must be likewise marked but dared not shift him again for fear of aggravating the gouge.

Legolas had begun to tremble slightly with chills and Erestor uttered a low curse. This would not do. Hastily he rose to explore the cavern hoping to find something suitable to use as a covering, for his own clothing was back on the far side of the waterfall and he had just sliced the injured elf's garment to shreds.

The cave was surprisingly dry and clean and closer inspection divulged that it was no ordinary natural cavern. This walls were sanded smooth and in one area a series of absolutely perfect rectangular niches had been carved into the stone, each one exactly 60 centimetres wide and 36 centimetres deep. There were two sets of these bookcases, each containing 24 shelves, flanking a broad, low niche sufficiently long to allow a full grown elf to stretch out. On this excavated platform was a firmly stuffed feather mattress, for it was indeed a bed of sorts, neatly made up with white cotton sheets, lots of pillows, and a thick down comforter. As he pulled back the covers, Erestor could not resist a quick inspection of the other shelves' contents.

There were many books, of course, meticulously catalogued in some sort of numerically coded order, filling the top and bottom two strata of either alcove. They were all written in various dialects of Westron and had titles that did not make sense as he understood it.  _"Wolfram: A New Kind of Science", "Dirac: Principles of Quantum Mechanics", "Electricity and Magnetism", "Descartes: La Géométrie", "The World Wide Web for Dummies," "Verlaine: Album de Vers et de Pros,"_  he read to himself and was glad not to have to attempt pronouncing the peculiar words aloud.

Upon the middle slots were numerous and varied items; rolled up parchments, undoubtedly maps, filled two more spaces, soft blankets and extra clothing, all folded in exacting perfection to fit perfectly within the allotted area, occupied three more. On one of the more central shelves in the left bookcase was a multitude of strange objects the Noldo could not identify; they seemed to be made of shaped pieces of black obsidian and were decorated with weirdly yet punctiliously drawn characters on raised rows of small oblong tabs or buttons. Most of these mysterious things were small enough to fit in the palm of the hand or a pocket. Erestor picked one up and examined it from all sides, tested its feather-light weight, ran the edge of his index finger over it.

To his astonishment, the material was not like any sort of glass, stone, metal or wood he had ever encountered before. It was smoothly slick and somehow as warm as his hand. It was scored around its perimeter and looked as if pieced together. The little raised squares were soft yet firm. Intrigued, he rubbed his thumb against one of these minute panels and nearly wet himself when a high pitched tone issued from the thing.

A four by two-and-a-half centimetre section on the top surface suddenly became bright with opaque grey light and flashed an indecipherable series of graphic symbols in black. Erestor hastily replaced the object, his heart racing from the unexpected animation of the lifeless item, and ran back to Legolas' side.

"What in Arda is all this about, Thranduilion?" he asked quietly, but the Wood Elf only groaned in feverish discomfort. Erestor knelt, gathered the stricken elf into his arms, and rose from the ground.

The jostling movement caused Legolas to cry out in pain and his body became rigid a second or two as he grasped the Noldo's biceps with a grip of iron. The next instant his head lolled back and his limbs dropped and dangled as consciousness fled. 

Erestor hurried to the bed and deposited his patient as carefully as he could, removed the boots and gloves, and covered the elf in several layers of blankets and quilts. The shuddering tremors did not abate. In vain the Noldo searched for wood to make a fire, but nothing of that sort was stored in the cave; a most grievous oversight in his opinion. Thus, he did the only thing he knew to keep the injured elf's body temperature from dropping lower; he stripped off his soaked leggings and scooted underneath the blankets. Cautiously wrapping his long lanky frame around the  more compact silvan, Erestor gently collected the boneless body close, cradling Legolas against his chest.

Hours passed in worrisome monotony as the woodland elf's compromised health sought to repair itself. Gradually the shaking diminished and Legolas seemed to be settling into a healing sleep. Erestor feared to do anything that might inhibit this process and thus continued to hold his unconscious patient, determined to restore the younger elf to wholeness.

_And then I shall demand answers._

TBC


	2. Part Two: Erestor the Hero

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Two: Erestor the Hero

  
Well it was noble, fine, and good to plan on being altruistic and benevolent and self-sacrificing, but all of that became rather difficult to maintain once a lengthy span of hours had transpired leaving Erestor cramped, hungry, and desperately needing to relieve his bladder. Ithil had long since arisen and still the Wood Elf lay draped across his torso in a complete stupor. The Noldo was anxiously and rapidly wiggling his right foot back and forth on the bed in a futile attempt to quell the urge to urinate. His arm ached from being locked in one position for so long beneath the silvan's body.

Legolas might have been freezing with shock but there was nothing wrong with Erestor's health and lying at the bottom a the pile comprised of blankets and a senseless elf had made him hot and sweaty. Next his stomach gave a particularly voluble rumble, something it had been doing with increasing frequency and volume over the last several hours, and he could bear it no longer. Erestor shifted the wounded elf onto his healthy side as cautiously as possible, pleased when no signs of discomfort accompanied the transfer and Legolas remained in the healing trance.

_Should have done so long ago for he has not been shivering in quite a while._  The Noldo thought a little testily as he hastened to the pool and gratefully answered his body's demands.

Erestor gazed around the cave, which was deep and tall with a high ceiling at least half the cliff's height. The cavern was shadowed but not submerged in pitch darkness for there was a broad beam of silver light streaming down from a crack near the roof. A more muted illumination reached the space through the opening behind the falls. The water in the pool shimmered under the diffused glimmer, little waves shoaling across its dark surface to lap upon the sandy floor.  

Still naked the Noldo Lord  strode soundlessly back to the bedside and picked up his damp and now muddy leggings, frowning at the mere idea of putting the cold wet material over his skin. He gazed down on the sleeping Wood Elf speculatively and then advanced to the shelves, searching for fresh garments. Legolas was somewhat shorter and slimmer than he, the older elf realised, but he hoped there might be some loose fitting sleeping clothes among the elf's wardrobe. Nothing matching this description materialised.

Erestor became engrossed in examining each article, unfolding and holding up various sets of leggings, tunics and shirts. He noticed two things right away: there were no undergarments and every single item was made of black leather, black silk, or black…something that felt peculiarly slippery and cool to the touch, almost like an extremely fine, spun metal. The Noldor shook his head and spared a glance at the immobile silvan, perplexed. This clothing was not even vaguely reminiscent of the chic sophistication Thranduil's youngest was wont to display in public.

It was a well established fact that Legolas was addicted to attention, having been catered to and spoiled from the time he was born right up until he decided to choose a Dwarf as his boon companion. That had rather dulled the radiance of the golden princeling in the eyes of his family, especially Thranduil, and thus, no longer doted on as the adorable and precocious baby of the clan, he turned to other sources to satisfy his craving for notoriety. He was constantly involved in one capricious activity after another, always discovered in compromising circumstances, usually half- of completely naked, and his promiscuous sexual exploits remained the focus of gossip throughout all of Aman.

He was a frequent guest at Cebir Fain [White Cliffs], Elrond's palatial estate on the shores of Eldamar, and whenever Erestor happened to see him Legolas was decked out in fine materials and elegant adornment. The clothing in the cave was like the outfit he had been wearing when the Noldo discovered him: severe and unembellished, constructed for practicality, economy, and anonymity. By the time Erestor had gone through every single bit of haberdashery the shelves were a shambles compared to the precision of the neatly creased bundles noted on his arrival.

Erestor shook his head and scowled foully as he drew on his cloying, saturated pants and tied them up. He sighed and wandered to the rear of the cave to see if there was any small opening he might have missed or more carved alcoves wherein food stores or a lamp of some sort might be found. Again, nothing useful was revealed. The back of the cave was smooth and ended in a solid barrier displaying neither cracks nor holes of any sort. Disgruntled, the Noldo turned to brace his shoulders upon the wall so that he could glare with due ferocity at the ill-prepared silvan for failing to stock anything edible.

_Not even any lembas._  He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and with a startled yelp promptly fell over hard upon the stony ground.

The Noldo lay panting in wide eyed panic and disbelief, for he could not truly have just passed right through a wall of solid rock to land in an entirely different room of the cavern. Yet that is exactly what appeared to have occurred. It was all the more disturbing because Erestor could see his upper body but not his legs, for the wall surrounded him from the hips down. He whimpered, fearful to move lest he be crushed, not comprehending how he had got into such a predicament in the first place.

He lifted a trembling hand to push tentatively against the wall and shrieked when the tips of his fingers slipped through it as though it was composed of air. Erestor yanked them back and stared, pleased to find the digits intact, shut his eyes tight and sat up. A slight humming sensation droned around his ears and he dared open one eyelid. He realised he could now see his legs quite plainly as well as the rest of the cave's interior. Like a shot the Noldo bounded from the floor and away from the wall of ghostly stone, shuddering as he looked back and saw the rock displayed, substantial and impenetrable just as it should be.

"Magic!" he whispered. "Rogue Wood Elves, tampering with things they should leave be!"

He paced around the room a few times as his heart rate slowly returned to normal, stopping when he reached the invalid's bed, for Legolas was beginning to stir, moaning in the resurgent agony of his wounds.

"Legolas?" the Noldo bent low and queried. He was rewarded with a clear blue-eyed gaze swimming in physical distress and mental confusion.

"Lord Erestor?"

"Aye. How do you feel?"

"Like I have a great bloody gash in my side," came the sarcastic response as the silvan became fully cognisant and struggled to sit upright, gasping with the effort.

Erestor suddenly remembered that he did not care very much for the youngest son of Thranduil and this insolent attitude was a large part of the reason. He took hold of the archer's arm and pulled him up perhaps more roughly than he ought for Legolas blanched and bit back a shout of torment until all that was left to reach the air was a softly anguished grunt.

"How in Mordor did you find this place? What are you doing here?" the younger elf's tone managed to project a distinct accent of accusatorial arrogance through the discord of discomfort as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

The noble Lord did not appreciate it.

"I happened upon the falls quite by accident, henellon [little boy] for which chance of fate you owe your pathetic excuse for a life!"

Legolas sighed and gave a brief nod, opening his lips to speak, but suddenly froze as a look of absolute dread and wrath combined washed over his features. His attention had shifted to the disarrayed mess of clothing strewn about among the shelves, across the bed, and on the floor.

"Eru's Arse!" he hissed and sent the Noldo a furious glare. "You have been going through my things! Why were you rummaging through my clothes? Did you touch anything else? Valar, you perverted old…old Noldo!"

"How dare you!" shouted Erestor. "I am not one of your twisted admirers, Thranduilion, I assure you. I swam in here and was thus soaked; I merely hoped to find something dry to put on while I watched over your skinny, worthless hide!"

"Oh I find that so reassuring. What else did you handle while I slept? Did you…have you…if you took advantage of me in such a state I will…"

"Of all the vain, narcissistic arrogant, preposterous and derogatory notions!" Erestor was incensed. "I should call you out for that! You walk dangerous ground to so impugn my character, henellon! I would sooner bed a dwarf than such a spoiled reprobate as you! I think I will just report your insubordination to your father and see what he has to say."

The Wood Elf was on his feet, shakily shuffling over to restore order to the contents of the cupboards, muttering a continuous string of foul epithets and curses under his breath. He flinched noticeably at the Noldo Lord's threat but managed to flash Erestor a withering glare of disdain from blazing sapphire orbs.

"Stop calling me that! I am not a child any longer and I do not care if you tell my father or not!" He returned to inspecting the contents of the shelves and abruptly inhaled an audible breath, swaying on his feet so that he was forced to grip the edge of the stone to keep from collapsing. "Oh no. Oh Valar, please, no!" He rounded in trembling fury on his benefactor bearing an expression that could only be described as demoralised terror, the small black, oblong devise Erestor had examined in his hand. He lifted it up. "Did you touch this?"

"Well, I picked it up, certainly, but…" Erestor stammered.

"Naneth nestagel tele o nâr! [Mother-effing rat's arse!]" Legolas threw the object across the room and it bounced over the stone floor right into the deep, gently rippling pool with a soft, musical splash.

"What did you say?" Erestor's mouth fell ajar in disbelieving shock.

"Thaur Orc ben-adar! [Abhorrent Orc bastard!]"

"Sin orfar, ben-ind, alhand galadh-gabor dithen! [That is quite enough you thoughtless, stupid little tree frog!]" shouted Erestor, red-faced in embarrassment and rage both. To his utter astonishment Legolas broke into a fit of melodic giggles and had to lean on the bookcase for support as he clutched his side.

"Oh Eru, is that the best you can come up with? I would wager you do not even know any profane words, you…you  over-rated exalted prick! Of course you would bed a dwarf; what other species would tolerate your touch?" he gasped out between an unlikely mixture of guffaws and groans as his injury flared up under the strain of his heaving lungs.

"Baw! Lasto enni torog rein! Si aniron le eitha, istathach, telegas! Si aniron le eitha, pedithon le alperin ellon sui Adar lín! Le onech dâf naugrim le nestegi!" [Stop! Listen to me, troll shit! If I want to insult you, you will know it, arse-hole! If I want to insult you, I will say you are not half the elf your father is! You let a dwarf fuck you!"]

This vitriolic stream of invectives spewed forth from the regal advisor in such coldly derisive tones that the Wood Elf gasped and all colour drained from his countenance. He stared at Erestor with such a crushed and stricken expression in his wide blue eyes that it looked as though his heart had been verily ripped from his chest and stomped on. He dropped his gaze to the floor and he slumped down on the bed in a dejected heap, exhaling a stilted moan as he buried his face in the blankets.

"We were never lovers. Gimli was my friend. He would never do that to me!"

Muffled and muted, this woebegone denial made its way to Erestor's hearing and the forlorn silvan's shoulders shuddered as he heaved a great sigh. That the bruising and welts indeed covered the elf's entire upper body was evident, and the advisor judged Legolas' back more deeply marked than his chest. The noble Lord at once regretted his harsh language and his failure to maintain his composure. Legolas had obviously been involved in some traumatic experience and was probably overwhelmed in pain and misery, lashing out at the handiest target in an effort to expel the accumulating distress.

"Gohena nin, Thranduilion; I should not have lost my temper nor spoken those words," Erestor said quietly.

"I apologise to you also. I should be thanking you for trying to help." Legolas lifted his head with effort and struggled to prop himself up on his elbow, grimacing in pain as he dared a look at his bandaged middle. Blood was once more oozing between his fingers and already a dark stain marred the dazzling white sheets. "Ai! Nestegi! [Ah! Fuck!]"

"You know, I do not recall ever hearing you use such language before, Thranduilion." In spite of himself Erestor shook his head and lightly laughed. "What has happened to you? You look as if you have escaped from Barad-dûr. How were you inured so severely?"

"Please do not call me that; I think I would actually prefer being referred to as a tree frog or troll shit," complained Legolas bitterly and sighed. "The truth is, Lord Erestor, I am in rather a tight spot just now and things are about to get incredibly worse."

"No, really?" The Noldo raised both eyebrows in an expression clearly indicative of exaggerated amaze.

"I am not being facetious! There is little time and I am going to need your assistance if we are both to get out of this unscathed."

"It is rather too late for you to spare yourself injury, Thran…Legolas," commented Erestor. "What in Mordor is going on?"

"I will explain later. For now we need to prepare. I must bind up this hole in my side first. Would you mind retrieving the medicinal supplies from the adjacent room? There is a sort of pantry in there and the kit is on the third shelf down, nearest the floor."

Erestor gazed at the blank wall at the back of the cave, reluctant to replicate his earlier experience, and shuddered.

"What exactly are we preparing for?"

"An unwelcome guest, my Lord. If you do not wish to be involved, now is the time to leave, for that devise you unintentionally activated will have alerted this person to my presence here. He is undoubtedly already en route."

"This individual, is it the one who did this to you?"

"Nay, his brother: Ossë."

Now had Legolas said Melkor himself was about to stroll through the non-solid rear wall Erestor could not have been more surprised. He was struck speechless for a second or two, then shook his head in confusion. Ossë, after all, was one of the Maiar attached to Ulmo's service and while purported to be a little on the belligerent side was not known to be a servant of Darkness. Additionally, Erestor had never heard that the Maia had a brother.

"But…Ossë? Why would Ulmo's apprentice come here looking for you and if he did why would you fear such a visit?"

"Please, Lord Erestor, I do not have time to explain it all just now. I understand if you do not wish to stay, but if you would go then do so at once or you will no longer have the option!"

As he hesitated, Erestor watched Legolas force himself up from the bed and begin oh so slowly limping toward the rear of the cave, clutching his wound and listing over it. His knees were shaking and he was definitely not going to make it to the hidden pantry. The Noldo reached him just as his legs turned to water and buckled. Swinging the silvan up in his arms effortlessly and returning to the cot, Erestor stared down into the dazed, pain-filled blue depths and smiled as he once more deposited Legolas onto the mattress.

"I will stay. Now tell me again what you need from the room behind the non-existent wall that I see at the end of the cavern." Erestor was quite concerned with the level-headed manner in which Legolas stated such irrational concepts. Ulmo's acolite would have no cause to hinder the elves' departure. The Noldo began to wonder if the former member of the Fellowship of the Ring had received any sharp blows to the head recently along with his other hurts. Whatever was going on, the Wood Elf was in no condition to leave unattended and Erestor decided to humour him.

Legolas produced a wan but genuinely grateful smile and went over the list more carefully. He let Erestor proceed to within a foot of the wall then reached for another of the small black objects in the bookcase, pointed it at the rock, pressed one of the buttons and said: "Edro annin" [Open for me] in dramatically accented tones. The mirage shimmered and dissolved away, revealing the wide arched opening into the smaller cavern.

"Bloody Wood Elves and their parlour tricks," Erestor startled and gasped, halting in his tracks to peer over his shoulder at the grinning silvan. As he strode forward more confidently, he caught Legolas' complacent chuckle behind him.

Once all the required items were gathered at the bedside, Legolas took inventory: there was a medical kit; four large colourless, transparent, intricately faceted gems; a tremendous blown glass jar with a fitted top that screwed down tight; a small spirit lamp and a ceramic bowl; a butler's whisk broom and dustpan; a tea towel; a block of paraffin; and a metal canister with a sealed stopper. He nodded with satisfaction.

Erestor now faced the task of treating the injury anew. This time things did not go as easily for Legolas, as he was conscious throughout the ordeal, and the noble Lord was impressed with the archer's fortitude and endurance during the excruciating procedure of cleaning and rebinding the gaping hole. When it was done the woodland fey lay panting softly, eyes shut and brow sheened in sweat, one hand protectively resting over the clean white bandage. After a few minutes he was able to compose himself somewhat and presented another shaky grin to his unlikely physician.  
   
"Hannad," he croaked hoarsely and swallowed to clear his dry throat.

Erestor took the bowl from his collection of items and hastened to the water's edge, scooping up the cool liquid and then assisting Legolas to drink it. He was able to prop the Wood Elf up into a reclining position using the numerous pillows and then tucked the covers around his waist.

"That is better," he said kindly and met Legolas' bemused expression. "What?"

"Nothing, I was just not expecting you to have such a compassionate bedside manner."

"You wound me, silvan! I am known far and wide for my sympathetic nature."

They both laughed at this a little, for the Noldo was usually perceived as aloof and unapproachable, but Legolas winced from the pain it caused and that stopped the fun at once.

"I had better explain what to do now, in case I pass out, which is likely," Legolas took a breath and began. "Ossë does not know nor suspect that you are here and that is our only advantage. You must hide near at hand. Set out the gems upon the floor, there, near the bookcase, one for each corner of a 1 metre square." When Erestor had completed this task, Legolas picked up the black devise and punched a series of the buttons, aiming the end of the oblong object at each crystal in turn. At once a shimmery image grew, abutting the true stone beside the bookcase, and then seemed to gel into a segment of rock that had not been there before.

"It is just like the other wall, not really there at all. You can safely get behind it and Ossë will never guess as long as you are silent. He has never been here and does not know the actual layout of the cave," explained Legolas.

"Take everything else and place it behind the barrier. Light up the spirit lamp and melt the paraffin, remove the lid from the jar, and keep this canister in hand. At the opportune moment, you must open it and pour the contents over Ossë. It will render him into an unconscious state but not do him any serious harm. With luck he will be disabled for a day or three, long enough for us to make a clean escape."

"Opportune moment? How will I know when that arrives? You must be more forthcoming if you expect me to be of any use to you Legolas," complained Erestor as he transferred the items to the newly created false closet and set up the little stove. "And what am I to do with the wax and this jar?"

"That I cannot explain in words, anymore than I could have described the purpose for those gems until you beheld it with your own eyes. Trust me for I have faith in you, Lord Erestor, and your judgement. I have no doubt that you will recognise the proper instant as it unfolds." Legolas' words were grim and his expression dark, his indigo eyes focused inward as though lost in memory. He blinked and focused them on the Noldo with a sad smile. "All will be well."

Erestor had his doubts, for the Wood Elf was not looking very fit at all, but remained silent. Legolas' breath was short and shallow and his body gleamed with perspiration generated by the heat of fever. The Noldo was quite concerned for while the bruises and lashes were healing over, the puncture wound had not closed at all. From the symptoms presented, he was beginning to fear Legolas was poisoned. Even as he watched, the silvan's eyes slipped shut and his head sagged to the side; he had lost consciousness just as he had predicted. Quickly Erestor checked the patient's pulse and respiration, finding both regular but thready, and readjusted the cushions to better support Legolas' exhausted body.

There was nothing else to do at the moment, however, so Erestor sat down on the end of the bed to wait. He had no intention of rendering the Maia senseless. Whatever had happened to Legolas, the Noldo was sure Ossë could not have been involved and was more convinced than ever that the Wood Elf was succumbing to some sort of delirious paranoia as a result of whatever toxin was working through his system. Ossë, he reasoned, would be able to help him get Legolas back to civilisation and into a healer's care.

_But then again, the whole idea of the aquatic istar showing up must be part of the strange delusion, too._  Erestor realised.  _I have no choice but to leave him and go seek aid._

Just as he had risen from the bed to follow through on this thought, a tremendous splash of water surged up over the side of the pool, coalesced into a long, narrow column of blue liquid, and took on the slightly altered morphology of a tall, imposing elven Lord. The Maia had arrived. 

TBC


	3. Part Three: Canned Ringë [Cold Lake]

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn 

("The Lord of Rose Pillars")  
by erobey | un-beta'd | Italics=thoughts  


Tall and imposing he was and unlike any of the other Maiar Erestor had seen before. The Noldo was familiar with the earth bound elementals attached to Aulë, Oromë and Yavanna while the minions of Manwë, Varda, Irmo, and Ulmo were seldom glimpsed by the First-born, unless perhaps among the Vanyar were they known. The noble advisor was well acquainted with Olórin (Quenya name for Mithrandir) and Aewendil, of course, but had seen Ossë but once or twice and always from afar, submerged within the ocean or riding upon the waves breaking far from the shores at Alqualondë.

For it was not of necessity that the Istari took physical form and most remained in the state of unrendered essence. What colour is the wind? Who can say what shape belongs to water when it assumes the likeness of whatever vessel or channel in which it resides? Thus, the commanding presence that emerged from the pool drew upon him a film of liquid like a skin of shimmering scales and though this manifestation was patterned after the manner of the elven race, yet the being was so alien a thing that he seemed not to belong upon the land at all.

The hue of his body was pale blueish green and lacked the warmth of flesh and blood, although as seconds passed and the transformation progressed his physique became more substantial. His build was broad and presented the impression of battle hardened muscles that bespoke strength and agility, formidable antiquity, and boundless stamina. Hands and feet were subtly webbed and carried long sharp black nails at the pinnacle of each digit. This creature evoked the impression of a relentless and ferocious predator. He was naked and both beautiful and terrible to behold.

He had no hair and his head, while gracefully formed and handsome in arrangement of its features, was frighteningly devoid of expression. What passed for eyes were deep green ovals lacking irises, carried in them the foment of a squall or the ferocity of a typhoon, and the pupils were inverted, white like the foaming surf instead of black. He had a refined aquiline nose that, having no need of air to breathe, was deficient of open nostrils. The ears were smaller than any adult elf's Erestor had ever seen but leaf-shaped as expected. His lips were not red or pink, for this being had no blood to lend the apparition such a shade, and instead were just a slightly darker tone than the rest of his invented exterior. Upon seeing the Noldo, he curled them up in a smile that revealed a neat row of small pointed pearl coloured teeth.

Erestor was taken aback. He rose to greet the Maia and bowed low, hoping he had adequately masked his reaction. Never before in Aman had he experienced such an overpowering and instantaneous feeling of aversion toward one of its inhabitants. He did not know which was more disconcerting: the blue skin, onyx claws, or ivory teeth.

"My Lord Ossë! I am honoured to make your acquaintance," he spoke respectfully as he righted himself, for this was one among the Blessed after all. "I am Erestor, kinsman to Eärendil and Elrond Peredhel."

"Mae Govannen, as you would say, Lord Erestor." The Istar's voice was as fluid as rain and restless like the susurration of the rising and falling tides. He gave a little knowing chuckle that sounded like a shallow stream tripping over stones. "I have heard of you and would not have expected to find you here, although perhaps it makes better sense this way. It must have been you that sent the signal, for Legolas never would. He has kept this hideaway well concealed from everyone's attention for a very long time. Except Yavanna, of course, who must have been aware but will always favour the Wood Elves with her protection."

"Protection? Why would the silvans need a safeguard here in the Blessed Realm? My Lord, I did send the signal, as you call it, yet I am ignorant of what has transpired. Do you know what happened to this elf?"

"Ah, I see! You are not involved with the youngest son of Thranduil?"

"What do you mean 'involved'? Certainly not!" Erestor sputtered as his face grew warm and pink while his black eyes crackled with ire.

"You disapprove of the lifestyle this one leads? That does seem more in concert with what I comprehend about your character, which admittedly is not much. But if you are not one of the traitor's accomplices then how did you come to be here?"

"Traitor's accomplice! Of what do you speak? Thranduilion is rather a scoundrel with non-existent morals but his loyalty to his people is beyond question." Erestor did not believe these words had fallen from the benthic Istar's aquamarine lips. "There must be some mistake."

"Sadly, no. I regret to be the one to inform you, but it will soon become part of the gossip mongers' daily fare anyway. Yon elven prince has grown bored with life here in Aman, it would seem, and thus has taken to adventuring among the Realms of Men beyond the barrier. He and his cohorts ended up getting captured during their latest escapade and only Legolas escaped. He fled and left four comrades behind. They were executed just hours ago."

"What? Nay! I cannot believe this!" Erestor's attention flew to the disabled elf on the bed in shock.

"I was loath to do so myself, but I have had the tale from one of his deserted fellows. A deathbed testament, Lord Erestor, cannot be ignored."

"Ai Elbereth!" The Noldo shook his head in sorrow as he gazed upon Legolas. The silvan's strange remarks made perfect sense now. "What will be done? Must he face Manwë?"

"I would think so. I came to collect him and make certain he does not manage to sneak away once more. He is very good at disappearing when he so wishes."

"Oh, aye, he is a Wood Elf. How are you going to get him out of here? I do not think he is fit to swim out through the pool. It is something I have been pondering over myself, actually, for his injuries are serious. I was just about to leave and go for aid when you arrived."

"That is still an excellent plan. Go and fetch a small boat that can be paddled up to the cave's entrance. I will watch over Legolas during your absence," suggested the Maia. He approached the bed and gave a cursory inspection of the accused's status, frowning slightly at the indications of fever. "Have you determined whether or not he was poisoned?"

"Nay but it seems likely; many hours have gone by and yet the puncture wound does not close. He is growing weaker, as you see"

"And has he remained unconscious all the time you have been with him?"

"For the most part. He managed to get up once but that only exacerbated his condition and he collapsed just minutes ago."

"Was he able to speak at all? Did he tell you anything?"

"Nay, just a bit of incoherent ranting over his clothes being a mess," Erestor said, omitting the entire conversation regarding the plot to disable the Maia and escape. The charges Legolas faced were serious enough and the Noldo saw no need to add to them. Besides, there was something in the tone of these questions that had all the advisor's nerves on edge.

"That is unfortunate; I had hoped he might have explained some of this disaster. If he succumbs to the toxin, we shall never know what motivated this egregious offence," intoned Ossë. He gave another of those coldly predatorial smiles. "It cannot be helped, I suppose. Go with all haste, Lord Erestor, and perhaps your worthy kinsman can effect a cure."

Erestor bowed again and turned, striding to the lapping water and re-entering the underground lake in order to swim to the small, round portal. This was not too great a distance and he reached it easily, pulling himself up onto the lip of the opening to peer outside. The falls obscured his vision of the opposite shore where his clothing, pack and canvas lay and damped his hearing effectively. The Noldo realised at once that it would be quite difficult to get Legolas into a boat from this vantage, for the water level was not only several metres below the doorway but also churning and foaming from the torrent pouring down from the cliffs. There was a very narrow ledge of sorts an arm's length down, however, and to this he cautiously lowered himself on the chance that some other option might be discovered.

The stones were slick with the spray of the cataract and twice the advisor nearly toppled in. He passed beyond the curtain of streaming liquid to find an early morning sky still sprinkled with stars above a paling welkin. Arien and her brilliant light would soon crest the horizon somewhere beyond the heights at his back and turn the scene once more into a picturesque example of tranquillity and peace. He could fully appreciate why Legolas had chosen this location for his hidden sanctuary, for not only was it serene and restful but also virtually unreachable except via the underground channel. Abruptly Erestor halted, not only because the protruding stone had diminished until it was no longer navigable but because he had just realised several important facts.

Even if the Noldo brought a boat to the less turbulent part of the pool, Legolas would never be able to make it along this thread of rock to reach it. He had been unable to walk unaided across a flat, dry floor. Neither could Erestor and Ossë carry the Wood Elf without loosing their footing, causing all three to plummet into the churning whirlpool. That would not bring any harm to the Maia or himself, but Legolas was unlikely to fare well in such an event. It was highly improbable that Legolas could have manoeuvred along the slippery, minuscule ledge to the inner chamber in his present condition. The wounds were severe and it had evidently taken all the silvan's resources to make it to the cave at all. And this being the case, there was only one conclusion that made any sense.

_Indeed, it is more than improbable. Legolas did not come through the hole behind the falls nor the underground channel, for his garments were completely dry, except for his own blood. There has to be another exit, disguised by the magical walls he has constructed._

Erestor edged back the way he had come, forced to creep backwards for there was insufficient space to keep his feet on the rock and turn around, until he was once more under the rim of the opening. The leap to reach the gap and heave himself into it was a delicate, powerful move requiring grace, balance, and strength. More than ever he was convinced Legolas could not have used the same method. Without a splash he dropped into the water and was almost at once wringing out his hair on the sandy beach. As he cleared the water logged tresses from his face, intent upon informing the Maia of his summation, the Noldo gasped in dismay.

Ossë had the cold, scaly fingers of one hand tightly wrapped around Legolas' throat, restricting his airway. He had stripped his captive down, and what his other hand was doing was so obscene that the advisor witnessing his teasing manipulation nearly vomited. The Maia had the Wood Elf's rigid cock in a secure hold and was vigorously pumping and massaging the organ. As he performed this unspeakable act of violation, he taunted the silvan cruelly.

"Foolish elf! Did you really think you could manage to evade me? Now we shall bring our little activity to its conclusion. Your last experience before joining your friends will be a supremely gratifying one. This is how you like it. Does this not please you? Is your body afire with need? Are you ready to come yet? Soon, lovely one, soon! Imagine how it will be for your father when he finds you dead, covered in semen with your stiff prick still begging to be stroked!"

Legolas was flailing desperately, trying to kick against the powerful being and beating feebly against the hand squeezing his oesophagus, bulging eyes wild in terror and fury. His face was a ghastly red and his mouth writhed in futile attempts to draw breath.

Erestor understood at once. This was not Ossë at all but the brother Legolas had mentioned, the one whom had injured him. The Noldo silently cursed his stupidity and just as soundlessly raced to the false wall, praying to Elbereth that he could reach it in time. He darted behind the clever illusion and disturbed the air in his passing so that when he emerged with the canister the Istar had released his victim and was just straightening up. Without hesitation and not bothering to speak a single syllable, Erestor uncapped the tube and flung its contents upon the vile creature.

The canister hissed when he opened it and a small puff of white vapour billowed out. Then a gush of liquid poured forth and struck the Maia in the face, chest, and arms.

The watery demon gave a horrific shriek of agony and tried to fend off the assault by raising his hands in front of his face, a look equal parts dread and vengeful hatred contorting his unnatural features. And then he just became completely still as if frozen in time, eyes staring, lips twisted in an ugly snarl.

Erestor spared a second to gaze in wonder at this unexpected turn of events, for while he had not had any notion of what the contents of the canister might be he had rather thought the liquid was a sleeping agent, given the Wood Elf's description of its effects. He chanced to poke the tip of his finger against the blue shimmer of one of the Istar's arms and inhaled in surprise. The Maia truly was frozen, his temperature colder than that of glacial ice.

Movement on the bed alerted him to Legolas' dire circumstances and he stepped around to the opposite side to determine the poor elf's status. The wounded silvan was struggling to cover himself even as he gasped and coughed trying to fill his lungs. The advisor at once grabbed up a blanket and draped it over the naked, trembling, aroused elf.

"Breathe, Legolas, just breathe!" Erestor exhorted, not sure what the proper treatment was for near strangulation. "By Eru, I am so sorry!"

Legolas could do nothing else but struggle for air for the next several minutes, his respiration harsh and wheezing, punctuated by fits of gagging and convulsive dry heaves. His eyes roved the perimeter of the room and lited on his tormentor; he tried to lunge forward as a scowl that promised destruction transformed his fair face. He did not have the strength, however, and curled up on himself with a windy moan in response to the sudden exertion, for his side was bleeding anew. He lay still a few more moments and gingerly pressed shaking fingers against the purple bruises rapidly rising on his abused throat.

"Be calm and rest," encouraged Erestor. "He cannot harm you now." He hastened to retrieve the medical supplies and fresh water and carefully turned Legolas over to help him drink, reorganising the pillows and propping him up once more. He smiled awkwardly and was grateful to find his patient's eyes closed rather than glaring in accusing remonstrance. Erestor was quite distraught with embarrassment and guilt over the predicament, for had he given credence to Legolas' counsel the silvan would not have suffered this additional torture.

Legolas would not meet the Noldo's eyes at first and the flush upon his cheeks was as much from shame as from the lack of oxygen. He felt foul and indecent, something the high-born Noldo would scorn and disdain to touch, yet to this very elf he owed his life. Not until the disturbing fullness left his groin could he make himself stop shaking and begin to realise the success of his plan, although the quarry snared was not the prey he had expected. He opened his eyes and trained them on the inert statue of living water poised upon the limestone floor.

"Ringë! [Cold Lake]" he hissed in a whisper filled with abhorrence and loathing and the desire to kill. With effort he sat up, shoving aside Erestor's restraining hands, and reached for another of the strange black items from the shelves to his left. This one was an oval metal tube with a handle attached at right angles and the Wood Elf pointed it at the Maia, his finger pressed against a tiny lever set within the object's grip. 

"Get back," he commanded in a croaking, raspy voice and sent his saviour a brief flicker of a glance filled with fierce determination.

Erestor knew it was a weapon the instant he saw it in the silvan's grasp and immediately heeded this warning, putting a metre between himself and the bed. As he watched, Legolas sighted down the length of the tube and with minute pressure from his index finger pulled the lever back. A deafening explosion concussed the air and echoed from the cave's walls, reverberating in seemingly endless waves of jolting sonic energy that set the Noldo's head ringing in misery.

In nearly the same instant, the petrified figure of the evil Istar burst apart with shocking violence, shattering like glass into a million shards that flew outward in all directions at once. The bizarre sound of the various pieces colliding with the stone floor was the most macabre noise Erestor had ever heard. The silence that followed was eerily mundane, the flowing flood of the falls cascading into the water beyond the cave lending the scene a sort of surreal, mesmerising monotony.

Again it was Legolas who broke the quiet, crying out in disgusted rage as he struggled to brush away the fragments of the felled Istar from the bed and blankets. His chest was heaving as he set the weapon aside on the shelf once more and collapsed back onto the pillows.

"I thank you, Lord Erestor; I owe you my life. Consider me in your debt," he said with effort and again graced the advisor with those deeply aggrieved lapis eyes for a nanosecond's worth of time before sealing them shut anew.

"Nay, it is not so; I do not count this a debt but rather must beg your forgiveness. I did not believe you; your symptoms suggested a poisoned mind and your words and actions implied a loss of reason. I fear I was all too willing to entrust you to this diabolical Nereus."

"Na sen thenid, genediad dartha [Be this true, the debt remains]," Legolas shook his head and firmly announced, filling Erestor's vision with the brilliant intensity of his implacable will.

"Just like Oropher." The Noldo huffed out an exasperated little grunt and declined to debate with the intractable silvan further, but took note that his remark pleased Legolas, for a bright gleam overcame the morose defeat that had suffused the debased elf's eyes.

"I must ask for your help again, mellonen [my friend], for I find my strength waning. The jar and the wax, now shall they be put to use."

"Of course, tell me what to do and I shall carry it out. Yet truly, that injury must be properly tended before we commence and on this I insist."

"Nay, it does not bleed so much now and we cannot afford another second's passage. Please, heed my words lest we be forced to contend with that twisted Istar yet again. For one, I have no wish for another round of combat, nor would you fare much better though your health is robust and your might legendary."

For a long moment their sight meshed and Erestor actually shuddered to see the depths of revulsion, pain and sheer terror revealed in his new friend's exposed, harrowed soul. Without a word he retreated behind the barrier and returned with the huge jug, setting it down carefully next to the bed. As he turned for the final trip to gather the molten paraffin, the mirage dissolved even as he passed through it and he could not stifle a small exclamation of surprise. Bowl in hand, he resumed his place at the bedside, raised brows and furrowed forehead expressing his desire for further instructions.

"All of the pieces must go into the container, no matter how small. Use the whisk broom and the towel; collect every molecule of water," Legolas stopped as a paroxysm of coughing racked his body and he clutched at his chest, straining for breath between the spasms. Both he and Erestor paled to observe the fine crimson spray that dusted the covers as the fit subsided. He tried to speak but could not force out enough air to give the thoughts sound.

"Nay, be still!" warned Erestor, hastening to the bedside where he dropped to his knees and pressed his ear against the silvan's chest. He did not need to keep it there long. "Ai! This is becoming worse by the second! Legolas, you are bleeding into your right lung, that is why the visible flow has lessened. Breathe slowly and deeply; you are not getting enough air." He gripped Legolas shoulders firmly and raised him more upright, hoping to ease the elf's respiration. The silvan flinched and writhed under his hands.

"Hurts!" he gasped out and his head dropped back against the cushions at the nape of his neck.

"Aye, it must do so, yet stay awake! Tell me how to get you out of this place, for I have no skill in such cases. Quickly, where is the exit concealed?"

"The pantry," Legolas panted out. He lifted round eyes fraught with apprehension and struggled to get up again. "The jar! Seal the lid, burn the broom and the towel. The axe!" Another round of asthmatic hacking seized him and he drew his knees up in agony as fiery pain shot through his side.

Erestor pulled Legolas' body forward, one arm wrapped around his chest while the other lightly rubbed the battered back. He had thought to thump his patient soundly and encourage the expulsion of the accumulating fluid from his lungs, but the sight and feel of the layered gashes and bruises under his palm gentled his touch. The force of the coughing and the angle of repose were sufficient, however, and several gruesome, dark clots soon dotted the down quilt.

The fit subsided and he resettled Legolas upon the pillows, carefully wiping away the tinge of red from his lips and chin. He noted a dusty mug at the back of one of the shelves, black, like everything else here and filled it with water so that Legolas could rinse the acrid taste of his own blood from his mouth. After that he made the silvan take a few sips of clean water and returned the trembling elf's ghost of a smile with a kindly one.

"All right, that sounds better now. Just be silent for I understand; be calm," Erestor assured and waited until Legolas relaxed and his breathing eased into more regular inhalations. The archer's eyelids drooped and the Noldo lightly jostled him, fearful for him to lose consciousness again. "Nay, stay alert, Thranduilion! We are not out of this yet."

"Do not call me that."

The words were not even audible to the Noldo's perception but the frown that accompanied the working lips and the severe expression in the once more opened eyes reassured Erestor that his intent had been realised. He rose from the bed and began the distasteful task of collecting up the exploded bits of the Maia. The larger chunks made disturbingly loud, acrimonious tones as they connected with the glass walls of the jar. Erestor glanced up to make certain Legolas' attention remained upon his actions, only to find the azure orbs half-covered once more.

"Look sharp, archer! What are you doing, sleeping on duty? Lord Thranduil will be shamed to learn of it!" This remonstrance produced too great a response and Erestor immediately wished he had not been quite so blunt in his choice of expressions, for Legolas' vision cleared at once to reveal a deeply anguished countenance overprinted with disoriented confusion.

"Hiren Adar? [My Lord Father] He is here?" Futile reorganisation of his limbs indicated Legolas wished to rise from the bed and once more Erestor had to restrain him.

"Hush, he is not here Legolas. I only wished to keep you awake for I fear if you are submerged in oblivion again I may never rouse you. Can you stay cognisant? I know you are weary but I need the reassurance of your eyes upon me in order to complete this vile duty with which you have charged me."

"Talk to me then."

"Aye, very well." Erestor smiled and used a clean corner of the blanket to wipe away the film of perspiration on the silvan's brow. "How did you learn this magic?" He resumed the chore, utilising the butler's broom to sweep up the tiny fragments remaining, dumping these into the debris at the bottom of the vessel.

"Not magic," Legolas' abbreviated reply rasped out.

"No? Then what manner of substance was that? It certainly has all the properties of a wizard's potion. Is that why you used to hang about with Olórin so much, to learn his secret arts?"

"Nay! It is liquid nitrogen," Legolas' answer contained a soft chuckle.

This pleased Erestor as he went about his work, though the name of the material in the canister made absolutely no sense to him. At last all the slivers of frozen Maia were in the container. He noticed that some of the smaller bits were beginning to thaw and looked to the floor, realising a scattering of liquid drops glimmered blue under the growing light of dawn's approach. Lifting his eyes to Legolas, he received confirmation that this was an ominous discovery, and speedily grabbed up the tea towel and set to swabbing the stone. 

"In the jar." Legolas spoke, pointing at the damp cloth in the Noldo's hands.

"Yes, I understand. And the wax is to seal the lid closed, water tight?" Erestor noted the brief nod of affirmation and completed the job. "Now what?"

"Burn it."

Erestor knew he was not talking about the glass jug and thus carried the broom and its metal pan to the centre of the cave. Intending to set the bound rushes aflame, he realised he had left his flint in his pack on the opposite side of the falls.

"Nestegi. [Fuck] Where is your flint, Legolas?" he approached to find the Wood Elf smiling, despite his ill condition, in what could only be defined as gleeful anticipation. Erestor raised his brows in inquiry.

Legolas shifted awkwardly until he could once more rummage around amid the contents of the cluttered shelves and then sat back with yet another tiny, flattened black oblong box in his hand. He pushed a sequence of keys with his thumb and held it up, making certain Erestor was rapt in attention. Then he motioned with his hand for the advisor to stand back, waited until he did, and pressed on the device again.

A soft whining hum issued from the object as a warm red gleam appeared, just a minute pinpoint of vermilion light, and then a burst of energy like a spark shot forth from the origin of the colourful glow. This trailed a straight filament of illumination behind it and connected with the whiskbroom, all quicker than Erestor could consider the events, and it was as if a rigid strand, a single vibrant web, joined the humming thing in Legolas' hand to the broom on the floor. A small flame erupted in the upper fringe of the brush's fibres and soon the humble implement was ablaze. The red string of light disappeared and Legolas smiled broadly upon hearing the Noldo's gasp. He held out the peculiar object.

"Are you enjoying showing off your unique toys? How did you make it ignite?" A rather smug snicker met these questions as the Noldo took the black thing and examined it carefully, convinced this, too, was a weapon.

"Difficult to explain," mumbled Legolas with a sly shrug, still grinning.

The noble advisor displayed a matching smile and shook his head in bemused appreciation, turning the device every which way as he inspected it. It was so very small, only the size of a small stone. He noted there were just four buttons on this box but did not feel it would be wise to test his skill in duplicating the archer's code. The casing was still warm from the heat of the beam as he held it out but Legolas refused to take it, mutely shaking his head and lifting his hand to push it back toward Erestor.

"Thank you, Thranduilion. A fascinating memento." His tone implied he was not exactly thrilled and he fiddled with the device, uncertain where to put it or whether it was even safe to carry around. In the end he set it back on the shelf.

"I will show you how to operate it." Eager expectation of generating a more satisfactorily pleased response clothed this offer. "It is very useful, works no matter the weather or…"

"I am sure it is so, and I am grateful, truly, but this is not the time or place. Now we must ready you to leave here, for I fear your health suffers with every passing moment. Let me change the bandage and we will be on our way."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Four: A Long Journey

  
"Nay, Lord Erestor, please. The bandage is fine as it is. We must go from here," said Legolas and leaned up to snatch a pair of black kidskin leggings from the shelf at his right.

"That is ridiculous. Ringë, or whatever his name is, was not gentle and I would at least like to check the injury once more before setting out. And I see no need for you to keep addressing me by that honorific; it hardly means anything here in Aman."

"Very well," Legolas exhaled a resigned sigh, "just give me a moment, Erestor."  He dragged the pants under the blanket, doggedly holding onto the covers with one hand, and began an elaborate bit of shimmying and shifting as he tried to get his legs into them while keeping the covers over his body. It was not long before he released the counterpane, finding both hands required to manipulate the uncooperative trousers. A terminated cry of agonised frustration sneaked past lips stretched into a seam of compressed determination. A few moments of struggling rendered the silvan breathless and soon he was choking and wheezing out dreadful sounding half-groan, half-gasps as the bedspread slipped lower and lower. Try as he might, he failed to achieve his goal. Legolas shot an anguished look at the Noldo, who instantly averted his eyes and turned away.

Erestor did not know what to do. Legolas would never be able to dress himself in such a weakened state yet the Noldo was reluctant to offer assistance. In this was the youngest child of Thranduil very much his father's son: he could not abide presenting as feeble or incapable. Yet it was impossible for him to bend his torso sufficiently to accomplish the task, for the pain of his wound stymied his efforts. The poor elf was practically soaked in sweat from the exertion and yet after several minutes of fighting the unruly garment he had only managed to get one leg in and that only to the calf. The advisor busied himself with straightening up the rest of the clothing, pretending not to notice that Legolas was virtually completely exposed by this point as the covers began to entangle with the leggings and added another obstacle. He stole a swift peek at his companion and found to his dismay that Legolas had chosen that exact instant to do the same.

The archer's eyes squeezed shut and he ceased the futile attempt, falling limp against the pillows and emitting a long low moan of defeat.

The noble lord went to his aid at once, wordlessly taking control of the situation. With rapid, matter-of-fact motions he extricated the leggings from the jumbled blanket and eased the Wood Elf's unclad limb into them. While not exactly ignoring the silvan's nudity, Erestor did not make his appraisal obvious and was cautious of where his hands found themselves. He glanced to see Legolas' reaction and found him still tensely blocking his vision and gripping the bedding in his endeavour to control the pain much as a dwarf holds to mithril.  _And the embarrassment over such helplessness._  The garment was drawn to mid-thigh and the Noldo could not go further without manipulating certain delicate areas of the younger elf's anatomy.  _Definitely not on my agenda. He must manage on his own from this point forward._

"I will gather the medicinal supplies and find you a shirt," he said quietly and patted the unyielding shoulder as he straightened up and moved away. From the sounds behind him, he gathered the archer was successfully completing the job of tucking in and tying up. Erestor curved his lips into a generically cheery sort of smile and returned with a loose black silk shirt, black silk hose, black leather ankle boots, and a white bowl of clean water. The sight that greeted him caused him to startle slightly and some of the liquid sloshed onto the stone floor.

Legolas reclined upon the pillows, the deathly pallor of his visage accented by the stark jet of the skin-hugging pants. His hair, captured in a single long plait, was still wound round his head from nape to brow like a royal circlet and the lack of flowing tresses made him seem to be a mere child, too short in years to have grown a proper adult mane. The bloodless tone of his flesh caused the bruises and lacerations to stand out and each high-boned cheek bore a livid streak of crimson. He stared up at the Noldo from enormous, tear-bright indigo eyes, the personification of vulnerable misery. 

"Hannad," he said and swallowed. Legolas meant the word to cover all of it, hoping the syllables would convey his thoughts to his benefactor not just of gratitude for making him decent again but also for allowing him the dignity to try on his own and for acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

"Ha nad lhain [It is a meagre thing (it is nothing)]," Erestor shrugged and his smile was quite genuine as he sincerely hoped to set the elf at ease. Legolas had been through enough without further humiliation being visited upon him. "Now let me have a look, pen-neth."

"Ai! I am not a child!" the Wood Elf spat with more of his customary haughty scorn. He forced his body up and propped his lanky frame on one elbow before a sharp spasm seized him and another coughing fit ensued. When it subsided he found himself once more in the Noldo's competent arms but had no strength reserved to move away. Besides, Erestor's bare chest was warm and his sturdy presence was a comfort to the ailing archer. He relaxed against the solid, half-naked form and pressed his forehead into the join of Erestor's neck and shoulder, inhaling shakily. _Smells like…like…_  But his mind could not supply an adequate comparison. The scent was entirely unique and he found it highly pleasing. 

"That is better. Slowly, deeply, retain the air as long as you can." Erestor wiped away the unpleasant crust of maroon upon his patient's lips and chin and hurriedly unwrapped the elf's injury, concerned over Legolas' boneless capitulation and laboured respiration. The wound itself did not look any better than it had before all the excitement and in fact was oozing a vile mixture of blood and pus.  _Whatever poison this is, it is unlike anything I have encountered before. Never have I known an elf to succumb to infection so quickly._

"Legolas, what can you tell me about this? You know it is getting worse?"

"Aye," a faint reply ending in a shuddery sigh. "The bullet is still in me. Must get it out, that is the source of the poison."

"What is a bullet?"

"Like a piece of an arrow or a knife, lodged inside. Small, like from the weapon I used. Must have ended up right alongside my lung, pushed through from all the fighting. Should be one on the floor somewhere," Legolas had to stop; he simply could not catch his breath.

Erestor settled him back into the pillows as gently as he could and got up to search the ground. His sharp eyes picked out the small metal object lying near the far wall and he retrieved it, inspecting the heavy, misshapen lump of lead with both curiosity and disgust. Lead was a foul mineral and a bain upon elves, a toxin of a most insidious sort. The First-born would become ill even if a large deposit of the ore was buried in the stone beneath the ground upon which their dwellings were built. Actual contact was unbearable, producing severe discomfort, fever, loss of reason and a slow, painful death if the exposure went unchecked. Just to hold the small sample made the Noldo's palm begin to burn in allergic reaction. He threw the offending mass into the shimmering pool.

"Elbereth! That explains much and makes the situation more serious. How long ago did this happen?" As Erestor spoke he returned to the bed and re-bound the seeping hole tightly. Legolas groaned from the discomfort but was too debilitated to react beyond an involuntary flinch. "We need to get you into a healer's care as quickly as possible. How I wish I had ridden to that glade!"

"What? Did you not?"

"Nay, I quite enjoy the exercise of walking and the slow pace ensures I complete my geologic diagram with sufficient accuracy. I seldom go on horseback these days."

"Nestegi."

"Aye."

The elves were silent as they considered the trip they were about to undertake. Neither one needed to say it was looking more and more as if the silvan would not last the journey. Legolas shifted, attempting to sit up, and Erestor immediately helped him, taking the opportunity to slip the simple shirt over the silvan's shivering frame. They shared a moment of grim eye contact before Legolas sighed again.

"All right, there are things that must be done. I need you to collect up the objects from the shelf and put them in the pack. It is in the pantry. Cannot leave any of them behind, nor the maps and papers," he stopped to breathe for a few heartbeats and Erestor retrieved the black  _of course_  leather  _naturally_  knapsack from its resting place and began filling it up. The devices were very light weight and took almost no space, but when he reached for the strange weapon he was surprised by its density and hesitated before tossing it in with the other things.

"Legolas, what of this?"

"Aye, keep that ready, just in case. Here, let me show you," Legolas reached for the instrument and Erestor sat on the edge of the bed as the archer wielded it with the easy familiarity that marked his handling of his bow or knives; expertise that could only be gained through long practise and frequent use. "Semiautomatic Browning Hi-Power, 9 millimetre, modified," he pushed back the slide to reveal the chamber and demonstrate the self-cocking hammer.

"Holds a magazine of 19 rounds and one in the chamber, hollow tip, full metal jacket, stored in the handle, thus." Legolas removed the clip and held it up then snapped it back in with a loud click that echoed in the cave. "This little catch makes it safe to carry around; it cannot be fired when this is engaged. Once unlocked, however, it is very simple. Just point and pull the lever.

"The projectile leaves the barrel at a speed of 390 metres per second, quite effective at short range. It is well-made, good balance, straight and true. You cannot miss. Best to aim at the head to kill or the knees to disable."

Erestor stared into the wide cornflower coloured eyes, so clear and innocuous and completely in conflict with the steely resolve in the elf's quiet voice. It was quite easy to forget that Legolas was a master of combat on many levels and with numerous implements of destruction. In fact, the noble advisor had not thought of him that way for more centuries than he could recall. As he considered this, Legolas gave a slight smile and a brief nod, acknowledging the notion even as it ran through Erestor's mind.

"My advantage," he said softly. "Tuck the gun into your waistband and gather the papers and the laptop."

"The what?" Erestor could not help but drop his sight to his own damp, leather encased thighs as he stowed the weapon per the instructions, storing the terminology for it away in his brain as well.  _Semiautomatic Browning Hi-Power, nine-millimetre gun._  Even the description of it was ominous and it felt strange against his belly, hard and cold at first but quickly absorbing his body's heat.

"Under the blankets, a flat book-shaped object. It stores information but also retrieves and sends data to other similar machines through use of an ingenious system of electromagnetic encoded signals that travel through the air or various types of cables and phone wires and such," Legolas was grinning at the nonplussed confusion displayed on his comrade's features. "Do not be worried; you will become familiar with all this in no time."

Erestor was not so sure that was an objective he wished to pursue. He found the slender rectangular black  _what a surprise_ item just where he was told to look and gathered it up along with a very short length of coiled black  _goes with everything_ rope with metal prongs on the ends of it. He also held up a contraption, the existence of which he could not in his most bizarre, stimulant induced fantasies have imagined, for the Wood Elf's inspection. It was furled like a fan, the slender panels composed of a dense black material with a glossy, almost oily surface, carried on a folded scaffold of some sort of light weight silver metal, its purpose beyond any notion the Noldo could muster.

"Aye, we need the solar collector to run the Mac here in Aman. And there is a journal I need and the axe."

The Noldo stopped his packing and stared, uncertain if Legolas' mind was beginning to drift again, for this was the second time he had mentioned the antiquated and cumbersome weapon of choice among dwarves.

"Bottom shelf, hidden compartment in the rock." Legolas encouraged with a motion of his hand and a shy smile.

Erestor knelt and felt around on the flat surface until his fingers met a slight concavity which he pressed. There was a soft clank as a catch worked free and the lid of the bin popped open to reveal an exquisitely made and ornately decorated long handled, double-headed dwarven battle axe. Alongside was a much thumbed and ragged old leather covered diary bound shut with a finely braided band of coarse, dark auburn hair. The advisor took them out, grimacing at the weight of the antique blade.

"I will carry it," Legolas' hands shot out for it imploringly and the beseeching smile on his sad features made Erestor's heart wrench.

"You cannot, Legolas, not in the state you are in. It is very heavy. Would it not be better to let this remain here, hidden and safe? Who knows what may transpire on our journey."

"Was Gimli's; not leaving without it." Stubborn petulance marred the melodic tenor vocalisation.

Erestor sighed and refrained from comment as he laid the handle in Legolas' hands, just permitting himself a small shake of the head in bemusement over the closeness the elf felt for the dwarf and commiseration with the evident depth of sorrow Legolas bore for his long dead friend.

_Has not been the same elf since._

The jolt of reality contained within this spontaneous observation brought the Noldo up short and he trained his eyes on the archer anew. Legolas had swung the axe up on his left shoulder and sat slumped with his cheek resting against the flat of the mithril blade, arm wrapped around his injured side, the very image of despondency, lost and alone, an elfling confused by the ephemeral existence of the other living things upon Arda. On impulse Erestor placed the battered old journal on Legolas' knees and laid his hand gently on the bowed head before turning away to finish up the packing.

A small supply of dried fruit and lembas was all the cave contained in the way of food and Erestor could not help devouring one of the small wafers of way-bread as he stuffed the remainder of the victuals down in the pack.

"Do you never eat? How can you live here with no supplies laid by?" the distorted words emerged from his full mouth.

"Go hunting; lots of berries and nuts. Yavanna knows what pleases me. Besides, I do not live here; it is a safe place, concealed until now."

"Are you going to tell me what this is about or not?"

"Not sure. Better for you the less you are involved."

"Rather late for that! I am the one who turned Ringë into an iceberg, after all."

"Aye, it is so. Mithrandir can keep you safe until it is all sorted out, though. I do not want anything to happen to you; everyone else is dead already."

Erestor did not know what to say to this, uncertain if he should reveal the Maia's charges against the injured elf. He decided Legolas had enough worries and there was no need to upset him since Ringë could cause no further troubles. He resumed searching for usable items and found a strange bottle made of some unknown material, as weightless as paper and as transparent as glass, held in a harness that ended in a sturdy shoulder strap. This he filled with water from the pool and then approached the Wood Elf. The problem of the axe was still unresolved, for Erestor was certain Legolas could not tote it and he would be hard pressed to do so himself, burdened with the backpack, the water, and supporting the wounded elf.  _Not to mention my own pack and portable easel over on the opposite shore._

"Legolas, consider carefully. We will have a difficult time of it. Can you not see it is better to leave this worthy artefact in a safe place to be retrieved at a later date when you are recovered?" he reasoned.

"Nay. I am unlikely to survive this journey and well do you know it. I will not permit Ringë to take possession, desecrating it by putting it to service in his horrid tortures. Gimli would not want that and I will not countenance it either. You must give all these things to Olórin; he knows about the task I was assigned and what to do to ensure its completion. You must tell him it was an ambush; we were betrayed."

"Eru's arse," the advisor muttered irritably, undeniably intrigued by all the mysterious happenings in which Legolas' was engaged, but not well pleased with the absolute obstinacy in his companion's tone. The axe must come along, though it weighed nearly as much as Legolas. Still, he had to try once more. "There is no reason for you to perish en route unless we are so weighted down that our progress is impeded. You will tell Olórin everything in your own voice. Whatever has happened is serious; Ringë's attempt to murder you must be reported at the very least. He is incapacitated and cannot possibly know the hidden compartment exists. Consent to concealing the axe and I will travel back to collect it myself once I have put you out of harm's way. In fact, I am abandoning my possessions right where they rest on the far side of the falls."

"I mean no disrespect, but your things are not vital to the preservation of life as we know it."

"Ah! Impudent elfling! Neither is that axe!"

"No, it must be as I say," Legolas struggled on, disregarding his friend's outrage. "It does not matter if I survive as long as this mission is completed. Mithrandir will see to it; just give him the backpack and Gimli's things. Besides, I have little understanding of what the fallen Istar can hear or perceive in that state. I am all too aware of his propensity for destruction. He will tear apart every inch of this cavern, seeking anything I may have left behind just for the sick pleasure of demolishing something dear to me. He will get free, he will render this cliff unto dust, and then he will come after us. Mayhap we will need the axe before all is said and done."

They stared at one another wordlessly and Erestor found his soul growing cold with dread over the prospect of facing the corrupt Maia. Without further debate he returned to the pantry and rummaged around until he found a length of hithlain rope. Back at the bedside, he took the axe from Legolas' shoulder and secured it tightly to the knapsack. Hefting this up and slipping his arms through the straps, he reached down to aid the silvan to rise and found a pair of lean arms wrapped around his neck as the archer hugged him tight and whispered a word of thanks into his ear. Erestor could not suppress a surprised smile and easily lifted Legolas to his feet, passing one arm around his waist as the other hand gripped the Wood Elf's wrist where it was draped against his clavicle.

"I can carry the water," offered Legolas and took it up, passing the woven loop over his head and across his chest. He allowed Erestor a short view of vibrant sapphire before dropping his gaze away for fear of showing how near he was to tears over the consideration the elder elf was granting.

Purposefully the pair moved across the floor and into the pantry where Legolas guided them to the false section of the far wall and then straight through it. They were in a narrow, crooked shaft that seemed to have suffered more than one cave in over the years and the debris on the floor made the going slow and strenuous. By the time they broke through into the open air, Anor was half way to its zenith and the glare of the sunlight was blinding. Erestor surveyed the steep and rocky descent with trepidation as Legolas fought to moderate his ragged breathing.

By midday, Legolas' was no longer conscious and Erestor was bearing him across his shoulders, staggering down a pathway even an elf could barely hold to and only the most sharp-eyed among the First-born would see to follow. But for small, dried dots of blood here and there upon a rock or a bit of dirt, left on Legolas' climb up, the Noldo would have missed the way entirely. Erestor paused to rest upon a less pronounced incline where a brave tree grappled the stony ground and held fast, lending a meagre spot of shade and a place to set the senseless Wood Elf down. He removed the pack, took the water jug from around Legolas' body and drank deeply, then sat heavily beside him. He checked the stringy pulse and frowned at the congested, audible gasps that posed as breathing.

Worried about the degree to which the increased activity had encouraged the internal haemorrhage, Erestor raised the hem of the loose top to press an ear against the affected side and was surprised to find that Legolas had tucked the aged diary into the waist of his leggings. The book had been pressing upon his abdomen all this time and left a red mark that would surely darken to black ere the day was done. The Noldo eased it out and then leaned over to listen to the occluded lung, displeased with his lack of knowledge as to how to aid his charge and prevent demise from blood loss. A deeper sigh sounded from the beleaguered body and then the feather light pressure of Legolas' hand resting on his head startled him. Erestor shot upright to find the ill elf's fevered eyes half opened, staring at him in mute entreaty, for what he knew not, and then the silvan's mind slipped away again into restless wandering.

The fear of having Legolas die in his keeping suddenly overwhelmed him and Erestor stuffed the journal into the pack, shouldered that along with the water bottle and then carefully lifted the archer, cradling him close against his chest. His weariness forgotten, the advisor resumed his downward trek with as much haste as his burdens and the rugged trail permitted, whispering out a quick prayer to the Star Kindler to send them aid before it was too late to be effective. He glanced back at the ridge top and scowled for it was really a short distance for any ellon not so laden; alone he would have traversed the decline in less than an hour's passage. He huffed in irritation wrought from his anxious soul.

"Eru's arse, Thranduilion, you are just a sluggard, do you hear me? I shall demand a fitting recompense from you for this severe labour you have exacted, henellon," he fussed aloud, eager for any other sound than the hoarse, rheumy breathing that wafted across his neck in erratic rhythm. No reply met his mild scolding, however, and Erestor grimaced; how he would like to have that aristocratically snobbish tone voicing vulgar epithets and hurling scurrilous insults upon him now. He stubbed his toe on a stone and stumbled, dancing around a boulder as he fought to keep his balance.

"Nestegi!" Erestor panted as he recovered his centre and proceeded. "What was that dreadfully vivid phrase you spoke? Naneth nestagon teler o nâr? Valar, just to say it makes me feel like something an Orc would scrape off the dung encrusted sole of its foot! Where did you learn to speak with such disgustingly detailed imagery?"

"Miny'adar. [Grandfather]"

"Manwë's Wind!" The archer's whispered response nearly made the advisor loose his footing and tumble down atop his patient, for he had not expected any answer. "Thranduilion, some warning, if you please, for I was nearly startled witless.  I do not believe you; Oropher has never uttered such tawdry, uncouth expressions in my presence."

"Not your Miny'adar, torog thû [troll stench]."

"And what has that to do with it? You would have me believe your esteemed forebear deliberately corrupted the ears of his youngest grandson with such atrocious additions to his vocabulary? Nay, you are fabricating. You picked that habit up from Estel; I am certain his ranger brothers were much given to foul-mouthed expletives and thought it quite amusing to hear them issue from someone as elegant and fair as you are."

The words were out before he quite realised what he had said and it was too late to call them back. Erestor's cheeks flamed brightly as he felt the soft laugh and minute smile that rattled the slight frame and created dimples in the face pressed against his shoulder.

"Nay, not Estel's friends. Miny'adar," Legolas insisted, inhaling the Noldo's scent, which made him feel calm and safe.  _He finds me fair!_  If Erestor had doubts as to their success in reaching level ground intact, the silvan did not share them. He found himself surprisingly relaxed and peaceful in spite of the difficulty breathing, for the pain had dulled to a low throb as long as he could remain still against his protector's heart. "A game, amlug thûl [dragon breath]." he sighed out.

"Indeed? Bizarre sort of pass-time if you ask me, gwaun dithen [little goose]."

"Nay! Boe caro pith gwaur, fuiol! [You must make the words dirty, disgusting.] Gwaun Dithen does not count; my point, anc mellin [yellow teeth]."

"Hah! That is too mild also; point to me, coron lavron. [ball licker]"

"Tele gwaeren o ferin. [windy arsed mortal.]"

"Alhand, thaw nastad o medli. [stupid, rotten bear's prick]"

This one made Legolas giggle, for it was the best the Noldo had come up with thus far, but that initiated a round of gagging and choking. He could not breathe and panicked, clutching Erestor's shoulder and near strangling him with the other arm, eyes wild and heart pounding as black patterns of blotchy emptiness swam over his vision. The stentorian hacking delivered up a splatter of bold crimson across the advisor's throat and as reason diminished Legolas feebly tried to wipe the smear away. His head lolled back and his arms fell away from their secure grip on Erestor's person.

"Legolas? Nestegi!" Erestor cursed, regret over encouraging the silly name-calling competition filling his soul, and increased his speed, for the silvan's respiration was wet and rattley and he could feel the stickiness of the blood congealing on his skin.

Another hour it took before the terrain bottomed out and Erestor broke into a steady trot, desperate to reach some sort of settlement or town, yet his clever mind had already calculated the exact distance he had travelled to reach the secluded zone of the hidden glade. They were still tens of leagues from even the most remote community of agrarian edhil. By the setting of the sun, Erestor was beyond his limit and while the landscape was less a wilderness and more the fringe of some farmer's fallow fields, no house or person was in sight. He was forced to stop and rest, choosing a small copse of trees dividing the long patch of turned, brown earth from a high crop of sunflowers in full bloom. There was a minute trickle of a brook with a soft mossy bank and here he propped his inert patient against one of the trees, dropping to his hands and knees to plunge his face into the cool stream and refresh himself. He drank deeply before sitting back to check on Legolas' condition.

Frustrated and suffused with a sense of helpless ineptitude, the Noldo stood and paced the springy turf beside the creek, for the silvan was slipping away, drifting into a coma from which he was unlikely ever to awaken, the time between each breath lengthening even as respiration shallowed. 

"It is intolerable!" he railed volubly at the dimming skies. "This is the Blessed Realm, the abode of the Valar, for Eru's sake! It should not be so hard to summon one of them, or at least their lesser helpers, when the need is dire!"

No sooner had the sounds vented from his larynx than a tremendous fulmination rent the quiet of the twilit countryside and a garish glare of red and yellow streaking balls of light danced upon the earth. The fireworks subsided to reveal Olórin standing tall and gazing in stern regard at the two elves, complete with a magnificently pointed midnight blue, star studded hat, matching long and gracefully cascading robes edged in snowy satin, and pristine, perfectly groomed and trimmed flowing white hair and beard.

Erestor gaped a moment in speechless amazement before he recovered his wits and his wrath.

"And about bloody time! What is it with you and these overly dramatic, nick of time arrivals? Is it some sort of fetish, some dark need to feel indispensable, to play the hero, to be the beloved saviour and…"

"Erestor!" thundered the Istar. "Enough; I am here and that is all that matters. For your information, all the sound and fury is for Legolas' benefit. He likes me this way, you see, and is not exactly comfortable with my other physical form. Now, come along and we shall have him fixed right up."

"Not unless you can move the three of us through the air in the blink of an eye…oh." The advisor sat down in shocked disbelief and found that his rear end connected not with the grassy bank but rather with the softly stuffed leather upholstery of his favourite armchair in his private study, safe and dry in his home at Cebir Fain.

TBC

 


	5. Chapter 5

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Five: Home and Dry - Almost

  
Erestor sighed and stretched, wriggling his shoulders and pressing back further into the luxuriant, plush padding of the velvet upholstered sofa upon which he was sprawled. Two extra cushions, lavishly embroidered by some elf's nimble, gifted fingers and fringed all around with silken tassels, supported his neck and bolstered his head. His long legs were draped over the opposite end of the over-sized couch but even so his feet stuck out a bit beyond the artfully curved and comfy armrest.

The Noldo sighed again, smiled complacently, and reached for an elegant stemmed crystal goblet on the low table nearby, raised the glass, filled with an intensely vibrant ruby coloured wine, to his lips and sipped in a mouthful. He closed his eyes and savoured the cool, dry sweetness, relishing the defining after-taste of honeysuckle that clung to the fine vintage, before swallowing and setting the glass back down.

_It is truly good to be home_ , he thought and smiled.  _Meril Thaifn [Rose Pillars] is so much better than the Last Homely House._

"Ion! Yavanna's Toss! [Yavanna's Bush!] What are you doing in here?" the voice emitting these exclamatory phrases was tinged in harried disbelief and at sufficient volume to cause the noble Lord to jerk bolt upright in startlement.

"Adar!" Erestor answered in equally irritated consternation. "Must you slink about the house? And I live here, remember? This is my home." He glared at his father, an exact replication of his Nana's most searing aspect of disapproving remonstrance, which Erestor had adopted as his trademark expression in Imladris, adorning his features.

Dammand [Long Hammer] (Erestor's father) physically cowered beneath the heat contained in his son's blazing black eyes. Never had he been able to brave that look whether presented by his wife-mate or his second born child. He managed a shrug and a sheepish grin.

"I was not slinking, Erestor, I came to see what is taking you so long. You went to change clothing an hour ago. The wizard is asking for you." The elder Noldo examined his youngest with intrigued bewilderment.

Dammand had been extremely surprised to learn of Erestor's return so quickly, for the naturalist/artist seldom ended his jaunts among the wilds before six months had passed, by which time he would have used up his painting supplies and mapped every inch of unknown terrain encountered. Whenever his son was away, Dammand kept everything tidy, shooed away unexpected guests, watered the plants, and went fishing in the ocean.

Which is pretty much what he did when Erestor was home, too. The esteemed warrior from Gondolin had died at Turgon's side, spent a short respite with his cohorts in Námo's Halls, and had been reborn in the Blessed Realm. Finding his wife also re-incarnated, Dammand decided not to return to Middle-earth. Needless to say, he had been overjoyed when his youngest made it to Aman without requiring any of those steps. The proud father had virtually taken up permanent residence in the east-facing suite of his son's stately manor, the one Erestor had designed for himself.

Dammand was seldom in his own abode more than a few years worth of time before heading back to Meril Thaifn [Rose Pillars], for his wife of more than 10,000 years was very involved in caring for the souls still separated from their hroa in Mandos. Dammand got lonely. While Erestor's house was not exactly known for excitement, the relaxed pace of life suited them both well.

Thus, the senior Noldo was absolutely shocked when, after scarcely a cycle of Ithil had elapsed, his son had abruptly appeared out of empty space, seated in his favourite armchair, half-dressed, half-dry, with a dwarven battle axe strapped to his back while Olórin (Manwë's most renowned assistant and  _possibly_ the Vala's offspring) strode through the house carrying a half-dead elf in his arms. Dammand's curiosity was beyond awakened; it was doing callisthenics and preparing for a marathon of a story.

As if in answer to the thoughts of the noble ancient, a long low moan of acute agony sounded through the room.

"Erestor! Get in here!" Olórin's call rang out, mixing with the next cry of misery.

"Excuse me, Ada; I must see to our guest," said the once chief counsellor to Elrond's court as he hastened from the study.

"Yes, that is just what I want to talk about; a most interesting sort of visitor you have brought here, Sigiland [Long-knife, Erestor's father-name]," Dammand remarked and ambled after his son.

Dammand was as tall as Erestor and of the same lanky, sinewy build with hair that had once been glossy ebony but which had turned a very attractive mithril-streaked bi-colour upon his 9,600th Begetting Anniversary (counted from his  _original_  conception since his parents had managed to make the second one occur on the same day). However, he had long Ages ago tired of fiddling with the thick, unruly locks and kept it cut short.

The old general never let a single strand grow longer than his shoulders and bound it all at the nape of his neck in a simple leather tie. Braids, he was wont to proclaim with authority to anyone close enough to hear, were only good for showing off. Having been mated, twice, to the same elleth for most of the 13,184 years of his two lives, Dammand felt he had little need to play the peacock any longer.

He followed his son's retreating figure into the hall, down the elegant, spiral, pink fossiliferous limestone stairway, across the grand, green-marble floored three-story foyer, traversed the columned veranda for which the estate was named, and finally reached the airy suite of rooms in which the originator of the distressed cries languished. Dammand paused in the doorway and quickly assessed the scene, correctly determining he would only be in the way. The odd thing, however, was that Erestor did not appear as ineffectual as the elder elda would have imagined his son to be in such a crisis. Erestor was no medic, after all.

Another extended groan escaped between the gasping breaths of the injured elf as the suffering creature thrashed against the tearing pain in his side and the Istar attempting to treat the wound. Stretched out upon the vast, plump down-stuffed mattress, Legolas fought against the sheets, the pillows, the quilt, and the hands striving to restrain his frantic, fevered flailing.

A sudden burst of energy planted his slender left foot solidly into the wizard's stomach with the full force of a trained silvan warrior accustomed to fending off Orcs, Wraiths, dire wolves, wargs and their riders, aberrant humans, and spiders of prodigious size. At the same time, the delirious patient rolled to the right, evading Erestor's clutching fingers, reached the end of the bed, failed to stop, and hit the floor hard.

A most pathetic howl of pain and frustration emerged from the elf as he tried to rise and found his legs would not support him. He crumpled onto the woven rug with a truly sickening thud and lay panting, too weak to move.

"Grab him!" commanded Olórin. The power of the Wood Elf's kick had landed him flat on his rear far from the bed where he sat hunched over, clutching his sore abdomen and sucking in huge gulps of air as he sought to regain his wind.

"Thranduilion, be calm!" called Erestor, advancing to the trembling patient, crouched to spring should the Wood Elf actually get on his feet and attempt to flee.

Wild and terrified lapis eyes roved the room, seeking the source of the voice as Legolas wheezed and coughed, still trying to get his legs under him. His moonlight coloured skin was shiny with perspiration and the single braid had come unwound, hanging loose down his naked back. The livid bruises and lashes were still apparent; healing seemed to have come to a standstill. The white gauze bandage had been removed and he was protectively shielding his injured side with an arm wrapped tight around his middle. His vision seemed to focus for a moment on the Noldo and his lips moved as though he wished to speak, but no sound other than the strained attempts at respiration emerged.

"All is well, remain still. I am here and so is Olórin. You are in my home, safe. Ringë cannot know to seek you here. Let us help you, young one," Erestor's tone was cajoling and mild as he slowly crept toward the prone warrior.

"Erestor?" the silvan managed to whisper and then collapsed into oblivion, lost in febrile dreams again.

"Hurry! Get him back on the bed!" ordered the Maia, fully recovered, as he whisked off his impressive navy-blue velvet, silver-embroidered, sequin-studded robe, now splotched with dark wet stains here and there, and threw it onto a nearby chair.

Erestor glared, W _ould I leave him on the floor?_  for he already had the injured elf in his arms, and soon set him down on the mattress.

"Olórin, why have you not sent for a healer? Surely the severity of the wound demands professional attention. His lung is punctured! Let me have my butler run over to Elrond's and fetch him back," he suggested.

"That is unnecessary and believe me Legolas would not appreciate it at all. I can tend him properly with your assistance. Just get those leggings off and for Manwë's sake shove some of these useless pillows out of the way!" Mithrandir groused as he rolled up the sleeves of his elegant white silk blouse, onto which the patient's blood had also seeped, and braided up the ends of his long beard, also tinged an unsightly red. He tucked the plaited chin hair under his shirt and looked up to find Erestor staring with a perturbed expression on his features. "What? Do you think it is enjoyable having someone of Legolas' strength yanking on this beard?"

"Of course not, I was not referring to that at all. I was wondering what is the point in removing his pants. The wound is in his side; you already have it exposed. Just do what needs to be done; he told me there is a small lump of lead lodged in his lung."

"Do not be so dense; naturally I can access the puncture. The bullet has already been extracted; what do you think I have been doing while you bathed and donned pyjamas? The surgery is what initiated that desperate attempt to escape. Legolas believes he is still imprisoned and undergoing torture. He is burning up with fever and we need to cool him down. Rather difficult to sponge him off with half his body encased in snug black leather."

A little dismayed to be taken to task by the wizard, Erestor did as he was asked without further argument, though he could not really see why the wizard could not do it himself. He was, however, glad that Legolas was unconscious as this sort of vulnerability was not to his liking at all.

"Why would he object to Elrond's help?" asked Dammand from just beyond the threshold, mystified by the reference to incarceration and maltreatment. Such terminology was not required in the Undying Lands for there was no war, no threat of evil, no remnant of Melkor's putrid hatefulness. Observing Legolas' injuries, however, he recognised the nature of the trauma and the kind of instruments used to produce it. 

"Dammand of Gondolin," The Maia turned and stood tall, fixing him with a fearsome glower from under his voluminous snowy brows as he uttered the syllables in the rolling accents of the mighty among Aman's citizens. To his chagrin, the old warrior merely chuckled.

"Aye, it is me, Olórin. What are you going around in that sorry old broken down body for?" he asked through his giggles. "And do answer the first question first, if you please. No wizard's vague indeterminate deliberately confusing inscrutable replies, either."

"Very well. I can answer both queries quite succinctly: it is none of your business."

"Oh, really! Erestor, are you going to allow this overrated parlour magician to speak to me with such blatant disrespect?"

"Adar, please! He talks to everyone like that and you know it. Now I could use your help," Erestor rejoined in irritation as he peeled the leggings off the senseless ellon's limp form.

Legolas' legs, he noted with appreciation, were long and muscular and where they attached to his torso was a most pleasingly supple round rear end. Having observed the elf in complete exposure before, Erestor could still not resist an additional inspection of the well-formed relaxed genitalia. In his efforts to re-situate the Wood Elf's unending limbs, he managed the briefest brush of his fingertips against the silky, warm skin of the soft, slender penis.

"I do not doubt that," scoffed Dammand. "How long has it been since last you had an elf so willing to let you…"

"Ada!" Erestor shouted at Dammand and growled coldly at the Istar's throaty laugh. He felt badly for Legolas, recalling how hard he had tried to keep himself covered during the aftermath of Ringë's attack, and actually positioned himself to block his father's view of the silvan's male extremities. "Do not be so crude! I need you to go tell Galion to prepare another bath."

"Very well," the elder Noldo snickered upon observing his son's protective stance but also rather resented having his chance to ogle the attractive elf's much-lauded lower half barred. "I suppose you are right, unconsciousness does not necessarily denote consent. Too bad, he is quite lovely." Dammand gave his thoroughly scandalised youngest a rather smug grin and winked before turning to seek out the valet.

Now this butler named Galion was the very same elf long affiliated to the House of Oropher and the Woodland stronghold of Thranduil. The steward was a venerable ellon alive since the Awakening who had for nearly all of his extremely long life dwelled amid the Wood Elves in the mighty forest of Greenwood east of the Misty Mountains. Galion had served Oropher and his sons as rather more of a caretaker, advisor, and bodyguard than a simple house servant. Yet as soon as the butler's ship docked in the Blessed Realm, he decamped from the former King's entourage.

When asked why he had elected to accept employment with the noble Noldo of the House of Eärendil, Galion tactfully stated that he preferred Erestor's charming ocean side villa to Thranduil's new, forbiddingly austere and dark mountain fortress. His wife Tulus [Poplar] (long suffering nanny to the Woodland Realm's royal family), however, added that she was quite fed up with all the bickering and arguing that went on between the constituents of the former King's relatives. Besides, Thranduil was a cheap son of a warg rider and never paid her a bonus in over five millennia of service.

Upon discovering that their critically ill house guest was their favourite Wood Elf prince, both Galion and Tulus shifted into an energetic level of expectant joy not displayed since the wedding of Thranduil's eldest daughter to Rumil of Lothlorien. In fact, they were hovering just outside the bedroom door right along with Dammand, heard everything, and hastened into the small bathing chamber attached to the suite to make as relaxing and therapeutic a bath as they knew how to draw.

But to everyone's amazement, Erestor would not allow them or anyone else to assist in caring for Legolas. He ordered them all to leave and tended the feverish warrior himself. He could not bear to have Legolas awaken from his tormenting illness to discover strangers hovering over him, sluicing his naked body with lukewarm bathwater. The fact that the Noldo was certainly more of an outsider to Thranduilion than his nanny and his Adar's butler was completely irrelevant. Even Mithrandir had spent more time in the Wood Elf's company than Erestor, for that matter. It made no difference; the Noldo had shared a harrowing experience with the injured elf and felt a keen sense of responsibility for his recovery.

Besides, he found he was reluctant to share with the others the intimate familiarity bathing the nude silvan would grant him.

Employed at the task of nursing the former member of the Fellowship for the entirety of the breaking day, Erestor quickly found that there was nothing erotic in caring for the invalid. Legolas was beautifully formed, but his distress was severe and the degree to which he had been harmed was alarming. Erestor had never observed wounds like this except in times of war and the ellon's loss of reason was even more terrifying. Legolas fought him with all the strength he was able to muster, which thankfully was manageable.

Even so, the Noldo's fine silk lounge wear was soon more soaked than his travelling clothes had been after swimming across the pool at the falls. By the third bath, Erestor had stripped to his undergarments and tied all his hair back, fully appreciating Mithrandir's earlier concerns over the beard, to prevent Legolas from pulling it out in his frantic efforts to fend off imaginary foes. By the fifth bath, Erestor's compassionate fingers had catalogued every welt and weal on the Wood Elf's body.

Galion had to prepare seven baths, in actuality, for the poison-induced ague was stubborn. An hour past annûn, the fever at last broke and Erestor could finally relax, confident his guest would pull through. With Legolas asleep and securely tucked into the soft bed, the noble Elf Lord trudged back to his own rooms. He drew on a dry pair of loose green striped pyjama pants and a matching robe, not bothering with the top that completed the ensemble. Barefoot and weary, he silently advanced down the hall to his study, looking forward to savouring another glass of wine, where the elves assembled in the room nearly gave him apoplexy.

Not all the elves, of course, for he was familiar enough with his father's appearance and even the sight of Galion and Tulus ensconced on the sofa sampling his finest vintage was not uncommon. No, it was the remaining occupant that very nearly stopped the former seneschal's heart.

As it turned out, this was not an elf at all. It was Olórin in his preferred physical representation.

Erestor had not beheld Mithrandir in this particular body, for the two had never exactly been cronies even during the wizard's years on Arda, where this persona was not revealed, and once back in Aman the Maia was always off somewhere mixed up in projects designed by Manwë. The Blessed Realm was truly a huge region consisting of three continents plus their associated seas, and while Erestor sought out regions of wilderness Olórin tended to turn up in more civilised areas. Removed from the common menace of the One Ring, their lives no longer intersected.

In fact, Erestor had not seen Gandalf since he was Gandalf. That is to say, at the send-off in Mithlond when Elrond, Galadriel, Glorfindel, the Istar, and the Ring-bearer had all sailed away to Aman. 

  _Nay, that is wrong; I saw him at Elrond and Celebrian's 8,962nd bonding anniversary, just over a century ago. He was just regular old Mithrandir then, too, shooting off fireworks and getting drunk with Thranduilion,_  Erestor corrected himself.

Apparently, no one had thought it important to tell him about this particular manifestation of the Maia's essence. Erestor just gaped, for he might as well have been looking in a mirror, so uncanny was the likeness.

"It is entirely coincidental, I assure you," the wizard was already declaiming, a winning smile on his handsome face. "I chose this form long before you were ever born."

"But how, why?" is all Erestor could manage, taking in the flowing blue-black locks worn loose around sveltely muscled shoulders, the imposingly tall frame, the superbly toned, virile physique swathed in a fine silk robe of midnight blue over form hugging leggings of creamy white and a watery blue short tunic (which incidentally were his own), infinite coal-coloured eyes, elegant aquiline nose, and smirky maroon lips quirked up in a sardonic grin above a firm masculine chin.

"Oh come now, he is not exactly the same," argued Dammand. "I can tell the difference quite easily. It is not as if the likeness is identical."

"Aye, Erestor is not as tall," said Galion.

"Nor as lean and well-formed," added his wife. "And his eyes lack that fiery heat."

"And Olórin exudes an air of authority you have never…" Dammand did not know when to stop.

"Ada!" snapped Erestor in aggravation. "I quite comprehend the variations, thank you." His tone was icier then the frozen wastes of Helcaraxë and silenced all the insensitive comments.

He was flustered beyond rational thought. The only identifiable emotion going through his beleaguered mind was disappointment that Legolas found this physical form uncomfortable to be around, since it was essentially his. It depressed him so much that he flung himself into his armchair with an unhidden glower of supreme annoyance and a voluble curse.

"Nestegi!"

"Sigiland! That is hardly appropriate language in front of a distinguished servant of the Valar and a venerable Lady of the Greenwood," scolded Dammand.

Both Galion and Tulus snickered in amusement over this but made no further comments upon observing their employer's state of irritation.

For a long silent moment, Erestor trained his disturbingly cold and menacing Look at them each in turn and then passed this chilling glare of doom over the small group in general.

"Out. The lot of you, leave now," ordered the Lord of Meril Thaifn. He had endured a very exhausting couple of days and was not in the mood for any more jokes or shocking revelations, especially if they came at his expense.

For a moment the elves and the wizard just stared at him as if they had not heard correctly, convinced he had not truly meant for them to go. But Erestor was quite serious and stood, drawing himself up as tall as he was able to in order to match the Maia's stature, and pointed to the door, brows arched and mouth grimly set.

With disgruntled mumbles and many a speculative glance, the Istar and the elves exited, agreeing to reconvene in Dammand's rooms to continue their discussion of the peculiar circumstances fate had visited upon the normally amicable Noldo and the rakish hell-cat, Legolas Thranduilion.

Once they were gone, Erestor sighed and poured himself that glass of his favourite vintage he had so been anticipating, intending to relax on the sofa as before. Yet though he was tired he could not find an easy position to rest and the flavour of the wine was less pleasing than normal. He shifted about and changed orientation, switching head and feet, but it did no good. He could not get the wizard's comment out of his mind.

_Rein! [Shit!] Why should it matter? Legolas is nothing to me; it is well he finds me so displeasing. He is completely without morals and if the gossips are correct has allowed anyone who wished it access to his body._

Erestor got up, setting the unfinished goblet down on the table, and roamed around the room. It was beyond frustrating that chance had thrown him in Thranduilion's path. This youngest son of the Wood Elves' former King was precisely the sort of trouble the Noldo made certain to avoid. Even one public appearance in the silvan's company would have the rumour mills in a frenzy of speculation. When it became known that he had brought the dissipated elf home, his respectable reputation would be ruined.

_If I do not get him out of here, before two Sun Rounds I will be on the List._

The List was an infamous catalogue, compiled monthly by Lindir of Cebir Fain, naming all the elves Legolas had taken to his bed over the ensuing time and how long each affair had lasted, arranged according to the reliability of the source and the likelihood that the silvan would choose said elves. 

Yet the harder Erestor tried to convince himself that he was offended by this unwanted notoriety about to disrupt his life, the more insistently his memories betrayed him. The phantom sensations of holding Legolas close, lying next to him in the cave, gently supporting the abused body as the silvan squirmed in the throes of his elevated temperature, learning every curve and angle while washing down the heated flesh, bombarded his internal arguments and defeated his denial.

Erestor sighed and rubbed his eyes in resignation; his lustful desire had been awakened, even the archer's scent was alluring. And given the silvan's dissatisfaction over Olórin's alternate corporeal form, it was a hunger the son of Dammand would never satisfy.

_Is that why he was struggling to conceal himself? To prevent attracting my unwanted attentions?_

Erestor emitted a disgruntled snort and exited his suite, wandering back down to the first level to enjoy the cool sea breeze wafting through the open veranda. He continued across the smooth, marble tiles of the columned porch until he reached the long open windows of the Wood Elf's bedroom and entered. He paused there, just over the sill where sheer gauze curtains trailed against the polished pine wood floor, ballooning in the drifting breath of the ocean. He was not even aware of how long he stood, letting his thoughts wander over the various situations in which he had encountered the Wood Elf in the past, just watching Legolas sleep.

Then a small mumbled phrase, too low and garbled to be understood, met his ears and the patient twitched. Erestor was at the bedside in an instant, soothing the troubled dream away with comforting reassurances, settling the disordered covers back into place, smiling when Legolas' eyes briefly opened to meet his. And though logic warned that Legolas was not aware of his surroundings or whom he was with, Erestor's heart told him the expression in those bottomless blue eyes was not one of disapproval or dislike.

The Noldo's smile remained; he sat on the edge of the mattress and stayed put throughout the night, determined to prevent any more unpleasant recollections of Ringë from disrupting Legolas' healing. The pale glow of minuial [dawn] warned that Arien was about to emerge and cast lengthy lines of vibrant orange light over the flat horizon. Erestor recalled he had not eaten anything since the hurried mouthfuls of lembas and dried fruit consumed on the flight from the cave. Arising after a noisy complaint from his neglected stomach, he quietly left the sickroom, intent on preparing tea and a light breakfast for himself and his guest. Legolas had not taken nourishment in at least two days, and the Noldo wondered how long it had been since his last real meal. 

The preparations did not take overly long, though he had to argue with Tulus over the type of tea suitable for her Brannonlas Dithen [Little Leaf-Lord]. Just as he was passing through the suite's sitting room, movement out on the porch caught his eye. Erestor halted in surprise, for Legolas was stumbling toward a small group of chairs and lounges set just outside his windows, meant for guests to enjoy the brisk morning air and the glory of minuial [sunrise].

Thranduil's youngest had found and donned a short silk robe that reached to mid thigh; it hung loose and flapped about him as he had not bothered to tie it shut. He was panting with the effort to make it to a comfortable, cushioned chaise where he collapsed more than sat down. The silvan managed to drag one leg up onto the seat and leaned back with a groan, eyes wrinkled shut and one hand pressed to his injured side. He heaved a great sigh and lay still, unaware in his debilitating fatigue that he was being watched.

Erestor was frozen, overcome with an intense sensation of deja vu. He was positive he had witnessed nearly the identical scene not long ago. A second of pondering revealed the memory: it had been at Cebir Fain only twenty years past or less. He had been visiting Elrond's family for Arwen's Memorial Day and Legolas had been there as well.

The Noldo remembered his disgust upon witnessing the silvan's emergence from his rooms. Legolas had appeared just as under dressed, wearing only an open shirt that exposed everything that should be private, staggering as if suffering from the after effects of too much drink, hair all awry, looking like he had been sexually mauled by multiple partners for days without rest. The Noldo had assumed this was the case, for such was the forest warrior's reputation, and he felt it entirely inappropriate to behave so on the sombre occasion of Arwen's Day, and in her parents' house. He had said something like that, in fact, just loud enough to make sure he was heard.

When Legolas had realised he was not alone on the patio he had startled, surprised to find the seneschal's disapproving glare raking his form. He had stared blankly a moment or two then hastily attempted to gather the garment over his nakedness. Finally he had grinned ruefully and confirmed the Noldo's hypothesis:  _'You are right, of course, Lord Erestor. Glorfindel and Galdor were a bit rough with me, I am afraid. Please, I beg you will not mention this to Elrond and his Lady during their time of Remembrance.'_

Now observing similar behaviour that might be interpreted as indication of licentious excess, did he not know better, Erestor was no longer certain he believed Legolas' explanation. Mayhap this was not the first time Legolas had been involved in trouble of such a dangerous sort. He tried to remember if there had been any obvious signs of abuse on the silvan's body then, but nothing definite arose in his thoughts. Erestor set the tea-tray down determined to learn the truth, but before he could take another step a familiar figure appeared from beyond the gardens, hastening across the lawn at a pace just shy of running.

_Elrohir._  Quickly he scanned the yard and the rest of the porch, expecting to see Elladan, and scowled a worried frown. Where one was the other must also be, and the Noldo liked to have both in his sights at all times whenever they chanced to show up at Meril Thaifn.

_Which the have only done twice in nearly a thousand years_ , he abruptly realised, but his wonder at this was immediately resolved for Elrohir was moving directly toward Legolas' position.  _How in bloody Mordor did they find out he is here?_  His attention was captured by the unfolding interaction, however, and he put the riddle aside for the moment. Elrohir was on his knees beside the chaise, the archer's hand clasped between his, an expression of fearful concern etched upon his fine features.

"Legolas? Ai Valar! I just heard. Let me see," his voice rang with dismay and worry.

"It is all right, Elrohir. I am…"

"Do not say it!" the younger twin warned with a steely glare. Gently he opened out the loose garment to inspect the damage and sucked in a shocked gasp of a breath. "Oh, Legolas! This is too much, mellonen. [my friend]"

"Nothing I am unable to handle."

"Nay, things have got out of hand. Legolas, you look as if you were beaten nearly to death." Elrohir was tenderly inspecting various ghastly bruises and lacerations, sadly shaking his head as his hands moved over the younger elf's body.

"I can manage, Elrohir."

But the Peredhel clearly did not agree, carefully elevating his friend's chin to better view the unmistakable marks left by strangling hands. His accusing eyes met the archer's and Legolas flushed and looked away. Elrohir's fingers trailed over the bandage and continued down, sorrowful grey gaze noting every injury, great and small. He lifted the one leg still resting on the floor and stretched the limb out upon the chaise, simultaneously scooting Legolas' rump over with his other hand so he could perch on the side of the lounge. As if he was brushing a hair from the Wood Elf's face, Elrohir fondled the flaccid genitals and elicited a soft sigh from Legolas.

Erestor tensed. That was entirely unnecessary and completely unethical, considering the depleted state of the suffering silvan.

"Would you like me to comb your hair, Legolas?" Elrohir asked, voice low in smooth sultry tones. His fingertips played with the sensitive head of the archer's penis, now significantly less relaxed, and rolled back the velvety foreskin. "I will make you feel better, promise," he whispered and leaned forward to nuzzle against the delicate point of a florid ear.

"Sounds lovely, mellonen, but I am not really up to it," Legolas responded in a wavering voice even as his cock saluted.

That was sufficient for Erestor; Legolas had clearly declined the proposition yet Elrohir persisted in casually caressing the Wood Elf's swelling shaft and tickling the tender, heavy testes within their smooth-skinned pocket. The Lord of Meril Thaifn darted out through the open archway, eyes ablaze with indignant fury to see Elrohir taking such liberties of an elf in so dire a condition of ill health. He reached out to snatch him off the chaise even as both elves looked up in surprise, but Erestor's hand never connected with the younger twin.

"You brute!" the words were little more than an articulate growl and accompanied the slamming thud of the Noldo's back striking one of the pink limestone columns as hands grabbed, lifted, and flung him from his path. "What is wrong with you? How could you?" The hands belonged to Elladan and he was using them to grapple the former seneschal by the lapels of the loose robe, intending to shake him but instead merely tearing the delicate fabric.

Then Elrohir was on his feet attempting to calm his brother even as Legolas bounded from the chaise and insinuated his person between the quarrelling Noldor. He pressed the palm of his hand firmly against Elladan's chest and pushed back.

"Nay, it was not him!" he said urgently.

Erestor was still stunned by the impact with the pillar and the abrupt appearance of the elder twin but could not deny he was intensely gratified by the speed with which Legolas had come to his defence. Instinctively, his arms closed around the unsteady body, one hand wrapped across the chest as the other hand rested against the archer's flat, hard belly. He felt Legolas shiver and lean back against him.

"It was not Erestor. He saved my life, Elladan. He is taking care of me." Legolas assured the elder of the brothers.

Elladan flashed Legolas a swift, worried glance before returning his scathing sneer of undisguised disgust upon his former mentor, relaxing only slightly under his brother's insistent pleas to desist from violence and the silvan's obvious comfort with their host's proximity.

"You are sure you wish to defend him, Cuthenin [True-bow]?" the elder twin asked with grim distaste. "I would gladly teach him where the boundaries lie in such activities."

"Muindor [Brother], do not interfere," counselled Elrohir, "Legolas is not a child. He knows his own limits."

"It is not his knowledge I dispute," snarled Elladan.

Legolas groaned in a combination of frustrated dismay and genuine discomfort, for he really was not well enough to be on his feet so soon.

"Please, Elladan; Lord Erestor would never hurt me thus. He is not the one responsible."

"Indeed, how could you even allow that idea to enter your thoughts?" demanded Erestor in affronted indignation. "When have I ever indulged in that sort of sordidly perverted bed play?"

"We have not heard anything regarding your sexual habits, Erestor, for you are quite secretive in nature. Who can say what you like to do to your partners?" Elrohir remarked. "If you caused even of those mark…"

"Peace!" snapped Legolas, so tense he was trembling, so angry his pale cheeks were streaked in garish crimson. "I have already told you that I am in Lord Erestor's debt, not his bed! How can you accuse him of such baseness?"

The twins seemed unconvinced and remained where they were, watching as their father's cousin gently rubbed his palms over the battered elf's navel and nipple.

Erestor meant to soothe his defender, feeling the rising outrage in Legolas' rigid body, but then his middle finger caught on the Wood Elf's belly button and that distracted him. He pushed into it without thinking and felt the ripple that ran through the archer's body, heard the deep intake of his breath. He watched Legolas' hand come up and trip across his forearm, encouraging the massaging fingers that were slowly kneading the rising bud gracing the firm pectoral muscle.

Erestor let his thumb test the responsiveness of the small maroon point, just flicking across it. Both his cock and his heart jumped in answer to the sharp gasp of surprise that left Legolas' throat as his head dropped back against the Noldo's shoulder. Erestor's other hand spread out over the firm abdomen, middle finger wriggling inside the small depression as his last digit stretched down and came to rest on something warm and slick. He circled his finger in the slippery heat and with a jolt realised he was stimulating the tiny slit in the long proud column of the silvan's erection.

Legolas moaned wantonly and pressed his face against Erestor's neck, inhaling the enticing scent, dabbing the tip of his tongue there for a tantalising taste, using his free hand to coax the Noldo's other fingers to join that probing pinky.

Elladan and Elrohir were gawking in rapacious prurience, eyes locked on the former seneschal's hand and the archer's dripping cock. Elrohir made a soft little whining groan and opened out Elladan's fist, guiding it down to his groin.

That awakened Erestor's sense of reality instantly and he flushed in embarrassment, simultaneously snatching away his roving appendages and sliding from his supportive stance behind the Wood Elf.

Legolas reeled and caught onto the pillar to regain his balance, not expecting this outcome, and immediately understood the situation: Erestor would sooner be bitten by a warg than touch him thusly. The acutely painful realisation lent him the power to race from the humiliating predicament and he shoved through the barrier of the twins grasping fingers as they tried to halt him. Just inside his bedroom, his foot slipped on the curtains and he tripped, landing with a low, dolorous exclamation of defeat.

All three elves turned to assist Legolas, but then Elladan stopped and seized Erestor's arm to hold him back.

"Nay. Let Elrohir see to him; you and I must talk." 

TBC

 


	6. Chapter 6

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Six: Gandalf Expounds.

  
Cebir Fain [White Cliffs] was larger than the entirety of the vale between the Bruinen and the Hithaeglir. The region was named for the huge escarpment of white limestone that rose more than a hundred metres above the strand-line. The impressive landmark spanned a goodly portion of the southern coast of Eldamar for seven leagues at least, giving way in the north to a softer landscape of rolling dunes capped with waving sea oats. The white cliffs gleaming under the sun, or sometimes the moon depending on the general timing of the individual sailor, were often the first sight of Valinor an elf beheld upon completing the Crossing. Of course, all had done so many thousands of years ago and no ships had crested the horizon of Cebir Fain in all that time.

Naturally, Elrond had claimed the choicest spot on the heights to build his estate, seizing far more acres than was entirely fair, in Erestor's opinion. The survivor of Gondolin was as much an Elven Lord as the Master of the Peredhel clan and who would dare imply Glorfindel was less worthy than Elrond? Yet, due to his esteemed father and mother's high place of favour among the Valar, no one defied the Ages-old elf his selection. Lord Elrond and his lovely Lady Celebrian dwelt in a most elegantly graceful home perched right upon the precipice, it seemed, and enjoyed both the spectacular view and the constant murmuring clamour of the ocean's breathing.

Erestor's palazzo did not overlook the sea and while it was certainly less grand than the Peredhel mansion just down the ridge a ways, it was more house than the solitary bachelor had ever occupied in all his long long years of life in Middle-earth. Finer, even, than his Adar and Naneth's spectacular villa in Gondolin was Meril Thaifn. The building was constructed of masonry and faced entirely in pink fossiliferous limestone quarried from a an ancient reef deposit located several tens of kilometres inland from the coast. That always impressed anyone who came to visit, for getting the beautiful rock out of the quarry and back to the site of the structure had been a chore of monumental proportions. It was the first thing people remarked, privately of course, when they thought Erestor was beyond hearing: 'Must have cost him a fortune!'

This was not far from the truth, for while the elder children of Iluvatar were not shy of dedication, concentrated effort, or hard work, quarrying stone was not a task any elf would anticipate with pleasure. It was for back-breaking travail such as this that the First-born truly missed the Younger offspring of Eru and Aulë. To get the labour done, Erestor had engaged in a complicated and lengthy bartering procedure, for gold coin was not legal tender in the Undying Lands.

The first thing that happened to an elf upon reaching the Furthest West was a thorough customs inspection of every item carried from the Severed Realms. Everyone tried to smuggle in something: plants, seeds of plants, fruits of plants, medicinal concoctions of unrevealed herbal components, animals and pets of all species along with their associated parasites, birds, silk-worms, even butterflies still in the cocoon. Aiwendil was said to have been the very worst, for being a wizard his means of disguising his cargo was great. Apparently he had taken a mating pair of birds from every species native to his beloved Rhosgobel, shrunk them, froze them, coated them in plaster and tried to pass them off as a collection of keepsakes.

Nonetheless, the inspectors were Istari as well, and one whispered unlocking spell was all it had taken to reveal the ruse. The avian contraband had been passed to one of Yavanna's followers, who had sent them back to their home at once. But that was not all Radagast was guilty of and the birds proved to have been but a diversion. It was soon discovered, after a most impressive show of spell-breaking and counter-incantating that went on for nearly an entire day and night, that the Brown Wizard was attempting to sneak a viable dragon's egg, disguised as a large black pearl, into the Blessed Realm.

Dammand had been there and reported to his son that the old Ainu actually wept, insisting he could domesticate the creature, when Yavanna herself showed up to see, then refused to allow the beast to hatch and destroyed it on the spot.

At any rate, coin was counted, weighed, assayed for purity and replaced with vouchers of equal value. Gold, mithril, and silver were used for ornamentation only, whether as personal adornment in rings and necklaces and such, works of art, or as inlay and leaf over architectural endeavours and upon various furniture constructions. Trumpets of silver were common and harp-strings were often spun from gold in Aman.

The resulting vouchers, made of delicate squares of dyed silk fabric more sheer than the gossamer of dragonfly wings, could be traded for absolutely anything one desired, and hence the very second thing that happened to the new immigrants was a veritable assault by an eager horde of agents offering everything from a simple meal after a long journey to shares in Vanyarin Commodity Brokerage Houses. What with many of these sales-elves being friends and blood-kin of the new arrivals, it was often quite difficult to refuse such offers and many an elf found themselves considerably less well-off than before they had left the docks in Mithlond. Erestor had no trouble whatsoever saying no, and indeed his reputation, accompanied by his forbiddingly cold and haughty stare, prevented him from even having to utter the word in most cases.

The wily former seneschal had moved in with his parents, temporarily he informed quite loudly and frequently whenever anyone had the nerve to ask, and traded his vouchers with care and discretion. He amassed a stockpile of various works of art, jewellery, shares in a multitude of vineyards, and land. In less than two-hundred years, the former ambassador/statesman became one of the best vintners in all of Valinor. He had won numerous awards for his creations and his vintages were highly prized among the elite of the Vanyar. It was said that Inwë would have no other wine upon his tables or in his cellars than that of Meril Thaifn.

That put Thranduil and his House's New Dorwinion wineries in second place. This was quite a point of contention between the Sinda and the Noldo, for the former King was not accustomed to being lesser than someone of Erestor's class, whom had only been one of Elrond's higher ranked servants, after all. In fact, the chilly relationship had begun long before the passage to Aman, even long before Legolas' birth. It came about during the Watchful Peace at a Festival of the Summer Solstice in Greenwood, to which all the worthy among elvendom's remaining realms had been invited.

During the revelry, the seneschal to Elrond's House had attended a wine-tasting event, having a rather discriminating and cultivated palate, and had actually wrinkled up his nose in displeasure upon sampling the famed Dorwinion, declaring the after-taste too bitter and the bouquet, if such a stench could be so called, reminiscent of worm medicine with which hound pups were dosed. 

Of course the comment was not truly so vitriolic but through repeated iteration had gained in both acrimony and length by the time it reached the King's ears. Only his gentle wife's serenely soothing words prevented Thranduil from calling Erestor out for a duel of honour, for to hear his beloved Ithilloth [Moonflower] state that it was 'only a sip of wine from one whom could not know better' calmed him. The seneschal found out about the unfortunate misunderstanding and worked hard to eradicate the harm, under Elrond's commanding irritation at being so shamed by one of his most trusted advisors, and told anyone who would hear him how unwise it was to participate in wine tasting after indulging a passion for fish and fried onions.

Well, Thranduil and Elrond were appeased if seething in silence, but Erestor resented having to fabricate regarding his true opinion of the wine. His actual assessment had been that it was overbearing and heavy, acidic and lacking in bouquet, and to that he privately held. Oh, elves could get drunk from it very quickly, to be sure, but that seemed to be its only redeeming quality. Except, perhaps, that if watered down a bit it might make a suitable anthelmintic for equine intestinal annelid infestation.

That was when Erestor first began studying the growing of vines and the fermenting of grapes, quite certain he could do a better job of it than the Sinda Lord of the Forest east of the Hithaeglir. Arriving in Valinor a full three hundred years ahead of Thranduil and his remaining Wood Elves had given the Noldo ample time to put these theories into practice and establish his place among the First-born.

Despite great effort and insidious espionage expended to learn the noble Lord's secrets, Thranduil never won a single wine-tasting competition against Erestor in the several thousand years since the inception of New Dorwinion vineyards. By the time the Sinda Lord had reached Eldamar, the Noldo had already procured the better land, acquired the most experienced viticulturists, prepared the best locations and methods for aging, and employed the most intelligent of Yavanna's horticulturalists in breeding completely new varieties of grapes, crossing them with the most unlikely of species to produce flavours never before even imagined among the First-born. Thranduil was forced to accept the secondary position and the concept rankled in his soul.

It became an unofficial slogan of the House of Meril Thaifn that it was best not to imbibe the results of Thranduil's distilleries, for it was purported that a portion of the former King's raw personality was imparted to every bottle corked. Thus, Erestor's capital grew and he had been able to afford the huge drain upon his resources building the manor house had required.

The home was gracefully designed with a columned portico all the way around it on every level to capture the sea breeze and allow enjoyment of the warm, ever-summer climate maintained by Manwë's lesser apprentices. The supports were constructed of the uniquely coloured stone and decreased in width just slightly with each succeeding story. They were shallowly fluted, polished to a glossy finish and unadorned from base to capitol. Thereupon was carved every species and variety of flower and herb that Erestor could recall from his Naneth's garden in the Hidden City.

She had thought this a fine idea, upon coming to visit his new home for the first time, but pointed out that he had forgot at least two dozen varieties. The lovely relief work was not the real marvel of the columns, however, for Erestor had diverted some of the estate's water supply and turned every other support along the first floor front veranda into a flowing fountain.

Cool liquid trickled down the sides of the stones from the capitols, running in softly muted tones like rainfall, gentler than a laughing brook, less overt than the singing cascade of a high-shooting jet. The floor of the main porch, which was level with the lush green sward, was paved in mosaic-sized tiles, some composed of pale green limestone bearing stunning black stylolites threaded with strings of golden pyrite and the rest of soft, contrasting, pure white marble. These minute flags were arranged in a pattern that formed an intricate fractal design reminiscent of the dance of shadow and light created by sunshine riding the crests of curling breakers to the shore. By setting the floor at a subtle angle, the trailing fluid from the columns drained into a small culvert and was in turn recycled, pumped back up to the ceiling level to bathe the glistening pink columns continuously.

This calm, shaded space had several scattered groups of graceful benches composed of the white limestone and assorted tables wrought from the green. Various vines and potted flowering plants were aesthetically placed up and down the porch's length, hanging from the ceiling in baskets or spilling out of huge tubs of the white rock. An entire row of miniature Lemon and Orange trees formed a second set of pillars just outside the lithic ones and their diminutive stature made the three-storied house look immence. The trees had been a gift from Celebrian, for she had perfected the art of growing dwarfed varieties of various trees during her long separation from her mate and children. Some of her creations were so small they fit in table-top sized pots, yet had lived hundreds of years and looked it, limbs and trunks gnarled and twisted.

Thus was the inviting scene of the formal veranda to which guests were welcomed upon invitation to one of the Noldo noble's lavish soirées. The porch along the east-facing side of the house had no flowing fountains and was more private, being reserved for the use of those assigned to the two guest suites on the ground level. The furniture was not as impressive, being constructed of cedar wood and wrought iron rather than carved from the lovely rock, but was just as comfortable. True, visitors assigned to the lower apartments were not considered as important in rank as those given the more elegant quarters above stairs, but that did not mean the rooms were less gracious. It was just that, when the Vanyar came to call, it was best to keep some distance between the Moriquendi and the Calaquendi.

Erestor was not wont to entertain Wood Elves, but he had numerous friends among the Galadhrim and even these were counted lesser folk when compared to the people of Inwë. Other than Galion and Tulus' kin, Legolas was the first Wood Elf Erestor had ever actually hosted at Meril Thaifn. Not that he was prejudiced, exactly, but the situation between their King and the Noldo rather inhibited socialising with the elusive forest folk.

The woodland elves had changed little since relocating to Valinor and were just as secretive as ever, sequestered amid a tremendous tropical rainforest in an otherwise uninhabited region of Aman, wherein it was rumoured they had become completely wild, even their speech devolving into a dialect of Sindarin that was such in name only and could not be understood among the people of other realms. Few knew the real story, for the silvans had little desire to mingle with the Calaquendi or rub shoulders with the Powers, and they had never had much use for the Noldor even before the emigration. Visits from Yavanna and Oromë were tolerated with stoic patience.

Legolas, however, was not pure-blooded Wood Elf, and his wildness consisted of the more common sort associated with spoiled youths regardless of lineage. Erestor had thought so, at any rate, until recent events. Now he had the disreputable elf under his roof and was quite determined to learn the truth. The untimely arrival of Elrond's twins was making the task quite difficult, and the noble Lord of Meril Thaifn struggled to rebuild his dignity in the aftermath of his uncharacteristic groping of the forest prince in his care.

"I have no intention of letting Elrohir 'see to him'! What do you think I was trying to prevent before your attack upon my person?" he demanded through clenched jaws, straining against the elder twin's grip.

"What? You had your grubby hands all over him! You are the one under suspicion here; Elrohir has never harmed Legolas!" countered Elladan, enclosing his other hand over the former seneschal's wrist to strengthen his hold.

"Neither have I! And I did not mean to do that; Elrohir had already got him aroused and I was distracted by his…by certain admirable attributes. I cannot help it that Legolas is well-formed and so highly responsive. Valar! I must go to him and apologise at once; he must think me an odious ogre!" Erestor sought to break loose from Elladan's iron-fisted grasp upon his arm and failed.

The two ellyn's [male elves'] eyes joined in silent combat as each strived, one to liberate himself the other to prevent it, glaring their most intimidating stares. They were evenly matched in fortitude both of muscle and malignant glowers, however, and a stand-off ensued. Finally, as tempers and temperatures rose, Erestor resorted to extortion, threatening the eldest of Elrond's sons with the only thing known to transform the fearless former Orc-slayer into an elven Lord of genteel deportment.

"Unhand me, you disrespectful hooligan! How dare you lay hands on me in my own home! I shall make sure Celebrian learns of it immediately! What do you imagine her reaction to this, your callous handling of her beloved's kinsman, is likely to be?"

Elladan's minuscule flinch of the shoulders as his cheek paled, accompanied by a definite if fleeting sweep of dire panic behind his dilating pupils, was not missed by the former seneschal. But, the fierce veteran of the Ring War rallied the next instant.

"She will be far more devastated to learn of your mishandling of our woodland friend! I dare say she will report the story to your mother!" The eldest twin knew he had scored a hit as Erestor's eyes went wide in surprise and his furious tugging and twisting wavered. Elladan smirked.

A moment too soon.

"I have known Celebrian for Ages," retorted Hîr o Meril Thaifn [Lord of Rose Pillars]. "She would never believe such a foul besmirching of my character! She will be humiliated if Naneth finds out it is you and Elrohir spreading this malicious rumour, for the two work closely with Estë in Mandos. How can you place your naneth in such a mortifying predicament, unable to defend her sons' actions to her best friend and colleague?" Erestor heard Elladan's gasp of dismay and felt the loosening of the fingers digging in to his forearm. He pressed on toward victory.

"Can you explain this? Exactly what are you two doing here in the first place, your brother invading unannounced across the gardens while you go trespassing through my house? I do not recall inviting you and Legolas' presence is hardly coincidental. Wait till Celebrian hears that Elrohir was pawing the poor elf's privates even as Legolas lay, barely conscious, unable to fend off such undesired molestation. I dare say it was not the first offence, was it?"

"You would not dare repeat any such thing to her!" gasped Elladan, but he let go of Erestor's arm and stepped back nonetheless, a fiery blush creeping over his countenance that was not the result of their strenuous contention. "We would never force anyone, much less Legolas!"

"You should both be ashamed of yourselves!" The stately elder elf claimed his victory, resuming his former status as the Peredhel's strict disciplinarian, and inflicted a stinging slap on the twin's cheek, followed by snatching up Elladan's braids and giving his head a sharp jerk for emphasis.  
   
"Ah! Daro! I was not trespassing; Dammand let me in. Nor am I the one at fault; we came out of love for Legolas and demand to know what you are doing with him!" Elladan countered by stomping on his one-time mentor's still unshod toes.

"Ai! Orcling! What is the matter with you? Have you been smoking Olórin's pipeweed lately?" Erestor let go of Elladan's hair to tenderly massage the bruised arch, hopping to retain his balance.

"Nay. I do not indulge in that vile habit," Elladan sighed and sat down on one of the chairs. "Erestor, I am serious. What is going on between you and Legolas? I must have your solemn word you did not cause him those dreadful injuries."

"I will not defend myself again, Elladan, here in my own lands. I should think your long acquaintance with me should be sufficient and if not, then I fear you must leave and consider our friendship severed." Erestor hobbled to the chaise and sat, glancing over his shoulder to Legolas' rooms.  _It is awfully quiet in there._

"Valar! I did not like to think it could be true, but the evidence is certainly damning! All of Adar's staff is fairly boiling like a pot of jam over this."

"How can this be? We have only just returned!" groaned Erestor, dropping his head in his hands.

"Do not blame me for that," Elladan shrugged. "It must be your folk that let it slip. Exactly why, if you have nothing to hide, do you wish Legolas' arrival to be secret?"

"It is for his sake, mostly, though I am not well pleased by the sort of light this will cast upon my name."

"Then you admit it!" Elladan jumped up, pointing in accusing wrath at his father's friend. "You are trying to keep your despicable behaviour from becoming known! No doubt your plan was to intimidate Legolas into remaining quiet, or worse, defending you as he has already done!"

"Baw! You are misrepresenting what I say! I have done nothing to Legolas other than try to help him out of a terrible situation. He was already like this when I found him. It was his desire to remain in a hidden location until healed of his hurts, I am certain, based on things he said and the remote region where I came upon him. Although it is quite clear to me now that he could not have survived those injuries without help." Upon saying this Erestor exhaled a shocked breath and stood up abruptly, turning to gaze at the open windows to the Wood Elf's rooms. "Oh Elbereth!" he whispered and sank back upon the cushions in confusion and denial. Legolas could not wish for death.

"What?" demanded Elladan. "What are you thinking, Erestor? Tell me what Legolas is involved in; Elrohir and I have known for long years that he is engaged in some clandestine activity. He will never reveal anything to us and confides only in Olórin, until now."

"Aye, and that is where we shall find the answers!" exclaimed the Noldo Lord. He stood again and turned to re-enter the study but stalled as he looked once more at the silent suite of his unhealthy guest. "Swear to me that Elrohir will not molest him, using the Wood Elf's involuntary response to stimulation as excuse to do so!"

"We never do that!"

"Do not tell me I saw otherwise, Elladan! Communicate with your brother and inform him to keep his hands off, right now, or I will have you both thrown off the grounds bodily!"

"There is no need," Elladan's flush of embarrassment returned. "I have been sharing everything we 'discussed' with my brother. He in turn reports that Legolas is highly upset and tried to leave, but due to failing strength could not manage getting clothed and has been tucked back under the covers. Alone. Elrohir will do nothing more than sing him to sleep."

No sooner were the words spoken than the younger twin's fair voice rose through the air and filled the space with a sweet and gentle crooning. The words were ancient, a lullaby for babes, and one that Legolas particularly favoured for it was this tune his Naneth would use, coaxing him to reverie with its soothing tones when he was an elfling.

"Aye, he has good reason to be more than upset," mourned Erestor. "I know not if he will ever forgive me, for I have abused him sorely, and after an ordeal no one should ever have to endure. How could I let myself get so beyond control like that? It has never happened before!" The noble berated himself, pacing inside as he mentally cursed himself. Spying the neglected tray, he once more found reason to chastise his laxity as a host. "Eru's Arse! He has not eaten a thing in Manwë only knows how many days! Tell Elrohir to fetch this and try to make him consume something wholesome."

"Be calm, Erestor, Legolas will not hold any grudge; it is not his way. Besides, he has a sort of soft spot for you, Eru alone knows why, and it is not what you were doing that bothered him but rather that you ceased doing it so suddenly," quoth Elladan as he followed at Erestor's heels and ran right into him when the Lord froze in step and spun around.

"Really? How do you know that? Did Elrohir transmit this knowledge to you? Did Legolas actually say so?" he had taken hold of the younger Noldo's tunic and was shaking him quite vigourously.

"Ai! Daro! What ails you? Yes, Elrohir states so, but we have known this for Ages upon Ages. We know everything about Legolas' preferences; in fact we are for the most part responsible for them."

"What?" Erestor let go and stared in undisguised distaste. The idea of the twins causing Legolas to like or dislike him was appalling.

"Nay, not specifically in your case; we had nothing to do with that!" Elladan chuckled to observe the relief that passed over his old tutor's features. "But we took Legolas' virginity and taught him everything about himself, what pleases him and what does not, all there is to know. Perhaps I might be inclined to share this information with you, should you convince me your intentions regarding my dearest friend are honourable."

Erestor could only stare, mouth clammy as a desert arroyo, bewitched by the visual imagining of this momentous event in the silvan elf's life. That such initiation was conducted by the twin Lords of Imladris was a commonly accepted rumour, but hearing the notion confirmed rendered the interior display much more vivid and colourful. The Lord of Meril Thaifn swallowed and heard his visitor laugh softly; Erestor frowned through his disconcerted blush and resumed his original course through the room.

"I am the veritable epitome of all that is considered honourable among elf-kind, Elladan. We shall continue this discussion later. I have difficulty accepting your words, however, for Olórin has indicated otherwise. Come, I have questions for the wizard."

"And I have answers, Erestor!" spoke the Istar, his words winding down from the stairs above the two elves' heads. "Follow me!"

Erestor was glad to see the Maia had resumed the more traditional form utilised upon Middle-earth and preferred by Legolas. The Noldo did not feel exactly comfortable talking to his doppelganger. He saw that the wizard was heading back towards his study and this pleased him, too, for their speech would thus be unheard by the patient on the first floor. Upon ushering Elladan in ahead of him, Erestor was about to shut the door when Dammand came hurrying down the hall and shoved inside also. The three elves sat and awaited the Istar's words.

"I say, Mithrandir, are you going to be switching back and forth like this often during your stay here?" asked Dammand, amused to see the elderly version of the mightiest among Manwë's disciples (and  _possibly_  the Vala's son) warming his hands before the fire in the grate.

"Never mind about that, Ada," scolded Erestor. "If that is what is required to ensure Legolas' peace of mind, so be it."

Dammand's brows went up and he shared a quick glance with Elladan, who nodded just slightly and returned a smug smile.

"Indeed," Olórin concurred as he filled his long clay pipe and lit it with a sliver of kindling from the flames, "peace of mind is what he dearly needs. He has been in a most vile situation of late and has suffered horribly at the hands of one who would claim to be his lover."

"Ah! Who is this despicable elf?" demanded Elladan. "We shall insist he be tossed out into the Void for such crimes!"

"Alas, the situation is not so simple," the Istar sighed. "Legolas has been a virtual prisoner of one of the Maiar for quite a long time. He was willing enough when the relationship began, but over recent centuries their interactions have become more and more abrasive. Legolas is, above all else, very independent and a free spirit. Such a one ought not be caged up, yet that is what Ringë attempted to do.

"Our silvan archer did not like it that all and could not understand such jealousy. To him, it became apparent that he meant nothing more to his lover than a jewel would mean to Thranduil: something pretty to show off and hoard solely for his own pleasure. Legolas was a possession rather than a beloved companion."

"What does it matter if this Ringë is one of the Ainur? He has broken the most basic rules of decency! Surely the Valar would not protect him from just punishment," insisted Elladan.

"Aye, once Manwë hears of it the corrupt fiend will be out on his arse, and good riddance!" averred Dammand with feeling. "I have never even heard of Ringë, he cannot be very imminent."

Erestor kept quiet, sharing silent scrutiny with the Istar, for he knew this was not the entire story.  He doubted if any of this was true, for the physical personification of the watery Istar had been more frightening than alluring. Legolas was unlikely to willingly be the creature's companion in love. _Yet Legolas is not shallow; if he found other qualities to admire he would grow to appreciate the outer form regardless. And even I have heard he enjoys rough bed sport; mayhap the Maia gave him that._  Erestor's heart sank over such doubts, for with them came the realisation that he really knew nothing of Legolas at all.

"The problem is that Ringë, anticipating Legolas' attempts to sever the relationship, has already been talking to his betters, inventing a plausible lie that unfortunately fits the Wood Elf's personality. He has been putting it forward that Legolas defied the Law of the Valar and returned to the Severed Realms to visit Arda again," Mithrandir delivered this summation and waited for the expected exclamations of shocked disbelief to die off.

"It is true, for much the same did the Istar say to me, only embellishing the tale to make Legolas seem to be an even worse criminal," added Erestor, nodding as he held the Istar's sight. "He told me Legolas was the cause of some deaths among the humans there."

"What?" shouted Elladan and jumped to his feet. "You have met the foul defiler and did nothing to stop this?"

"I did stop it; Legolas is here in my house, Elladan." Erestor's quiet voice chastened the Orc-slayer and he sat down again.

"Ai Valar! No one would believe such a thing!" Dammand proclaimed. "Legolas would never knowingly put anyone in harm's way."

"I confess, before I understood the situation, I was inclined to accept this was the case. The Maia is very convincing; do not underestimate his ability to sway the thoughts of his peers and betters," cautioned Erestor.

"Erestor is right," intoned Olórin over the denouncements of the other two elves. "Ringë has powerful friends and is well loved by Ulmo, who still watches over the fate of mortals beyond the Sundering Sea. Ringë has always stayed more or less connected to the Outer Realms and is one of the Vala's chief missionaries among the human hordes. It is probably one of the ways Ringë was able to seduce Legolas, offering him the chance to journey back to old haunts and search for relatives of those long dead who were dear friends of the silvan."

"Then you believe he did go across the sea?" Dammand was stunned. "Whatever for? He could not possibly have hoped to trace the descendants of Hobbits and Dwarves, let alone one family of humans amid the millions swarming the Severed Realms now!"

"Oh yes, he would indeed hope such a thing," Elladan was nodding with grim disappointment etched into his frowning brow. "It was for Gimli, I would warrant, that he returned."

"Aye, that axe," Erestor grumbled. "Looking to return it to the dwarves; a holy relic for Gimli's people to cherish."

They all fell silent, ruminating over the likelihood of such an endeavour and how clever the jealous Maia was to have used this aspect of the archer's character against him. And if this was believable to the elves, it was quite clear that Ringë would much more easily convince the Powers, who really could not know each individual elf among all the inhabitants of Aman. Legolas' roguish reputation was also against him; for if his respect for morals was so low then what was a rule of law to him save something to get around?

"Legolas is in a bad spot," Elladan stated the obvious. "How are we going to get him out of it?"

"Aye, we know he did not bring about anyone's demise on purpose. If such a thing happened, he must have been in the middle of a war and could not prevent it," posited Dammand. "The humans are always warring; it is difficult to comprehend how they continue as a species."

"I concur, Dammand, yet I must now insist that each of you, including Elrohir of course, remain silent on these events until I can sort it all out," Gandalf said.

"What will you do? Can you clear him of the accusations?" asked Elladan.

"That remains to be seen, but I am fairly confident of success," answered the wizard. "I am not without friends of high standing myself."

"Indeed, surely Manwë will take your word over some insignificant disciple of Ulmo's of which I have never heard before this day!" exclaimed the veteran of the First Age.

"Let us hope so!" smiled the wizard. "Now, Erestor, I need to speak with Legolas and you must prepare for guests. Your lovely home is about to be visited by the Powers, or some of them at least. Elrond will show up, too, I expect, so perhaps you two should leave before then," the Istar continued, directing his speech to each of the elves, and Elrohir through his twin, in turn. "Your father will not be happy to discover that you have become embroiled in Legolas' misadventures."

"He knows something about this?" Elladan was quite surprised.

"Aye, for I once had to seek his aid for Legolas' injuries. He has been very outspoken in denouncing the silvan since then. And me as well, I am afraid. He has threatened to have me expelled from Aman if either you or Elrohir ever became involved in our 'unsavoury dealings' as he refers to them." Mithrandir put out his pipe and dumped the ashes into the grate as he spoke. "Now summon your brother, for what I have to say to Legolas is of a private nature."

"As you wish; he is on the way," mumbled Elladan, more or less stunned to learn his Adar had worried over the twins' disregarding the Will of the Valar.  _He is right; we would have gone to help Legolas even if it meant crossing illegally into the Severed Realms._  Elrohir's thoughts filled his mind and Elladan was forced to acknowledge their truth. He sighed and rose to his feet. "Lord Erestor, we shall have to have that talk another time, I suppose, but do not wait overly long to seek us out. We shall be at Ada and Nana's until we learn what is to become of Legolas. Make certain to speak with us before."

"Aye, I will do so," Erestor said and stood to usher the intruders out.

"Before what?" teased Dammand, fully suspecting what was afoot between his son and the woodland archer.

"Ada! Not now; this is a serious business," snapped his son in aggravation and led the procession out of the study and down the stairs. In the foyer Elrohir waited and at that point Mithrandir split from the group and headed for Legolas' quarters while the three elves continued out through the front door.

"My apologies for accosting you, Erestor. I realise now how wrong my thoughts were. It is just that we know how vulnerable Legolas is where you are concerned and we have witnessed how violent his desires have grown of late."

"I think you have to be mistaken about his fondness for me, though I admit I would like to believe such words," Erestor shook his head. "Mithrandir told me Legolas does not like to see him in his other corporeal manifestation, and that is so like me that I nearly fainted to behold it!"

"Aye, he dislikes to see the wizard thus," laughed Elrohir. "There is a rather embarrassing story surrounding why…"

"…which we will gladly relate…" inserted Elladan.

"…but the point is that Legolas mistook the Istar for you once and quite made a fool of himself!" the younger twin finished. The pair strode off from Meril Thaifn toward their parents' abode on the cliff, leaving Erestor staring in boggle-eyed curiosity upon his doorstep.

TBC

 


	7. Chapter 7

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Seven: Erestor Embarks on a New Career

  
Mithrandir strolled into Legolas' suite and through the small, cosy sitting room, stopping long enough to heft up the breakfast tray abandoned on the nondescript occasional table near the open doors by the porch. Without bothering to knock he flung open the bedroom door and paced over to the bed, smiling as his eyes took in the broad feather mattress and its conspicuous mass of sheet-obscured elf. The disturbance of his arrival prompted a cautious hand to snake out and pull the covers down enough to reveal the top of a golden head and two enormous indigo eyes. Gandalf laughed and shook his head.

"Come out of there, elfling, and take some nourishment now," he commanded and was gratified to see Legolas sit up, a wan smile on his face.

"I am not an elfling, Mithrandir," he said, but knew it was pointless, considering the wizard's longevity, especially since he had just been caught hiding under the blankets. "I thought you were Erestor."

"Nay, not this time. Will you humour your old friend and at least pretend to eat?"

"Aye, in fact I am famished and will devour the pillows unless something better presents itself. What have you brought?" Legolas shifted into a more comfortable cross-legged position, careful to keep his lap fully draped, and examined the tray with interest.

"Well, the tea is probably cold but the rest of it looks as though it might still be tasty." Mithrandir set the tray on the bed, his features puckering up slightly upon noting some small areas of dampness lingering on the sheets. It had been many hours since the elf's last bath. He searched Legolas' face for an answer.

"Valar! It is not what you think; I merely spilled water on myself," huffed the archer indignantly. He had not wet the bed since he was two years old.

"Mmm," said Mithrandir and looked around for a seat, dragging away the chair meant to serve the adorable little drop front mahogany secretary situated near the clothes press. "Those scones will be too dry without jam," he complained as he sat, frowning at the plain pastries with displeasure.

"Can you not summon it hence? Honestly, what is the point of having the skill and never using it?"

"I use it, elfling, when the circumstances require it. Would you employ your bow as a fork, shooting an arrow into one of those slices of bread and butter when your fingers are more than capable of transferring it from the plate to your mouth?"

"Nay, I suppose not," Legolas shrugged, not really interested in the argument for he recognised the delectable victuals as favourites from his childhood, baked by Tulus with him in mind, no doubt. He was munching with obvious pleasure and soon finished off all four of the scones, dry or not. That made him thirsty and he eyed the teapot warily. With a small sigh of resignation he poured out a cup of the cold liquid, sipping it straight without sweetener or cream. After the first taste his smile grew tremendous and he nodded in delight, for it was mint leaf and lemon camomile, the only tea he could stand to drink, and that Erestor knew this about him sent shivers down his spine. He guzzled down nearly half the pot before recalling that he had not bothered to offer any to the Istar. "Oh, sorry! Tea?"

Gandalf burst out laughing at this and reached over to pat the hidden knee affectionately. "Nay, I have already partaken of a fine breakfast with Dammand. Erestor had this meal prepared just for you, I would guess."

A soft blush stole over the archer's cheeks and he glanced back at the tray to see what else had been provided. In addition to the already consumed scones and the rich, honey-sweetened wheat bread smeared with thick layers of pale creamy butter, there was a bowl of blueberries, a little pot of soft curds, and a handful of crunchy walnuts. Indeed, every item belonged on his list of favourite foods, and Legolas felt his face grow even warmer as he contemplated Erestor taking the trouble to learn his preferences.

He, of course, knew everything the Noldo liked and disliked, from his favourite colour to what sort of scents made him want to rut like a buck during mating season, but had not thought Erestor had ever directed similar attention his way. Another shiver worked its way through his body and down into his groin, stirring flesh that had only partially relaxed in the first place. With determined effort, aided by a loud complaint from his ravenous stomach, he returned his mind to the meal.

Legolas snatched up the berries, cheese, and walnuts and mixed them all together in the bowl, exhaling a hum of anticipation as he stirred the lumpy mixture with his spoon. The first mouthful was divine, so much so that he closed his eyes as he crunched in bliss and completely missed the soft knock on the half open door.

Erestor's head poked around the barricade just in time to see the expression of absolute contentment that suffused Legolas' features when he swallowed the initial bite of the whey and fruit concoction. He came fully into the room, smiling to see his guest so improved and displaying such a healthy appetite, and looked on happily as Legolas scooped up a second serving and delivered it to his eager palate.

"Ah, I am going to enjoy watching you satisfy your needs, Thranduilion," announced Erestor as he approached. It was perhaps a poor choice of words, considering the morning's events, though he meant them innocently enough.

Legolas' eyes flew open and he gasped, then gagged on the mouthful he had just plopped upon his tongue as it attempted to go down his windpipe, staring in red-faced alarm as he put down the bowl and clamped his hand over his mouth, desperately trying to stifle the need to cough, breathe, and swallow at the same time. Frantically he gazed about for a napkin, a towel, his shirt  _Valar! Anything but the sheets!_  and gratefully snatched the handkerchief Mithrandir waved before his face. He spat, sputtered, heaved, and finally sucked down the rest of the tea right from the squat little pot, landing it back on the tray with a thump and a wistful sigh.

"Forgive me," he managed, unable to meet the Noldo's eyes. No matter how simple and ordinary the situation might be, he seemed incapable of presenting a cultivated and dignified manner in front of Elrond's former chief advisor. Legolas saw the wizard's hand return to pat his knee again and the movement directed his sight to his lap where the covers had shifted dangerously low, exposing all of his stomach and the uppermost hairs of his pubic thatch, against which his intractable cock was determinedly lifting. As nonchalantly as possible, which is the same as saying with panic stricken abashment, he hastily tucked the sheet back around his waist.

"Nay, not at all, I should not have startled you," replied his host with the self same nonchalance, having shared the moment of revelation with the silvan and averted his eyes immediately. Well, almost immediately. "Are you all right? Would you like more tea?"

"Oh, do not trouble yourself; water is fine," Legolas gathered his courage, glanced up, and found Erestor intently scrutinising the ceiling. He exhaled a calming breath and manufactured a rather anxious looking smile when his response encouraged the Noldo to return his gaze from the heights.

"It is no bother, truly; Tulus will have it ready in an instant." Erestor turned to reach for the bell pull by the mantle, both relieved and unnervingly disappointed to find the graceful appendage discretely disguised once more.

"I think he has had enough of the tea, Erestor, it is a strong stimulant and will keep him up…er…from rest if he has any more," Mithrandir commented and that brought the matter to a close ere the Noldo had time to yank the cord. None would disagree; further stimulation Legolas definitely did not require.

A somewhat suspenseful silence ensued as Erestor returned to the bedside, uncertain whether he should remain standing, sit on the mattress, or go out to the parlour and bring back another chair. Mithrandir solved the dilemma for him, impatiently shoving the tray farther onto the bed and pointing to the vacancy in front of the Wood Elf's crossed limbs.

"Sit," he ordered summarily in the voice he reserved for Important Business from Sulímo, King of the Valar and Lord of the Furthest West. "There is much to discuss. Legolas, finish your breakfast."

Erestor and Legolas shared matching frantic and terrified glances as the esteemed vintner gathered his loose green silk robe about him and gingerly lowered his bottom onto the soft feather bed. The added weight drew the covers down from the archer's lap just a centimetre or two and Legolas snatched it back in place. Erestor tried to compensate by pushing himself a little further back and was surprised when his hand encountered a slightly soggy section of sheets.

He discarded his initial speculation, for his sensitive sense of smell detected none of the acrid aromas associated with urine. He inhaled again attempting to obtain a better sample of the wet stain's components. Erestor could detect nothing other than a slightly sweet, musky overcast to the dampened fibres and realised this was in fact the archer's scent. That gave his libido a strong jolt and he was rather glad to be wearing the baggy pyjamas.

Neither his discomfort nor his surreptitious sniffing were well concealed and Legolas groaned, lifting a slender hand to cover his vision from the sight.

"I was in the bathing chamber and spilled water on myself, nothing more," he explained quietly.

"Of course."

"It is the truth!"

"I am not disputing you."

"Your tone implies otherwise."

Mithrandir's lips parted slightly and his squinting eyes ricocheted between the sniping antagonists.

"Well what was I supposed to think?"

"I am not an infant!"

"Indeed not." A swift flicker of a glance surveyed the Wood Elf from chest to groin, inciting a rise in colour in the opposite direction, before locking once more with the cerulean glare of smouldering indignation.

"Enough!" The wizard heaved himself up from his chair with an impressive swish of his flowing robes. "Desist from this trivial bickering! If it would settle the matter, I will get Tulus to make up the bed all fresh and dry ere we continue." 

"Please do not do that!" Legolas' beseeching voice was fraught with humiliated desperation and he exhibited the most appealingly pathetic expression of mistreated puppydom his cornflower orbs knew how to concoct. In this case, the pathos was entirely genuine, for if Tulus found out it might as well be publicly announced in every community throughout Aman that Legolas had spilled on the sheets of Meril Thaifn.

It was not that she meant any harm or would invent untruths, she simply could not keep quiet about anything. And even the most mundane activity involving the silvan member of the Fellowship was immediately consumed by Valinor's quidnucs who masticated, macerated, and ultimately metamorphosed it into something unseemly and risqué or boldly obscene. 'This morning at Erestor's, Legolas brushed his teeth and swallowed some oral antiseptic,' rapidly transmuted into 'This morning at Meril Thaifn, Legolas brushed his teeth delicately over the throbbing head of Erestor's full and weeping shaft, eagerly swallowing the ensuing rush of his lover's warm, tangy seed down his long, elegant throat.'

Legolas shuddered reflexively, not necessarily from shame or dread, keenly aware of a rather persistent throbbing in his own anatomy, as this notion meandered through his mental pathways.

"As you wish, as you wish." Sympathetic vibrations modulated Mithrandir's words and lent them a compassionate overtone, though he had no idea what had prompted such urgent begging.

A short interval of soundless adjustment transpired in which the elves traded furtive peeks at one another. Then in unison they drew and released air, hoping to restore a modicum of normalcy to their interactions, and the Noldo picked up the bowl of yogurt and held it out with a tentative smile.

"Hannad," Legolas said and could not suppress a slight twitch when his fingers lightly brushed his saviour's whilst accepting the offering. It did not help matters to have the object of his long-cherished desire seated so close, wearing nothing but pyjama pants and an open top that presented tantalising glimpses of Erestor's warm, broad, muscular chest. Instantly the memory of being in full contact with the Noldo's solid torso just the previous day produced an unmistakable uplift in the thin covering spanning the space between his knees. Legolas took up the spoon and proceeded to stir the curd mixture nearly into soup.

Mithrandir observed silently, unable to contain an abbreviated eye-roll over such juvenile reactions from elves so many thousands of years old. Of course, he had not been privy to the events on the porch at dawn and thus the true cause of their awkwardness was unknown to him. The Istar wished he had his pipe so as to annoy the irritating immortals just a tad and perhaps distract their thoughts from Legolas' penis. In reality, however, he was glad to see the pair finally confronting their obvious and mutual interest.

_But at this rate it will take longer than an Ent-moot to complete the courtship._

At this thought he stopped himself and drew his brows skyward in wonder, for it had already been quite a bit longer than that since he first became aware of Legolas' attraction for Elrond's seneschal. In all that time, Legolas had probably spoken to Erestor on six or seven occasions at best, and always in the most formal of settings. What deep-seated insecurity lay at the base of this hesitation, given the unfailing regard the Wood Elf had preserved for the Noldo, was troubling to say the least. Thranduil's youngest was not known for bashful reticence.

Of course, there had not really been much time for Legolas to pursue his interest in Middle-earth, for he had apparently never laid eyes on Erestor until the fateful Council of Elrond, and had left Imladris with the Fellowship almost immediately by the reckoning of elves. The erstwhile Seneschal had departed for Aman with Elrond's entourage not quite three years later and Legolas had missed his chance.

Mithrandir knew all too well the reason for Legolas' reluctance to reveal his desire in these current times.

Despite the nagging uneasiness this ruminating produced, Mithrandir had to admit it was rather endearing to see the pair of dauntless warriors so tongue-tied and self-conscious. He rose from his chair and paced the room, stroking his chin hair thoughtfully as he nodded his head.

_Yes, this will work out nicely all around._  He stopped beside the bed and smiled down on the misdirected lovers.

"Now then, these are troubling times and unfortunate events have occurred, but we must carry on. Legolas, I need your report."

"Aye," the archer sighed and set the bowl down, suddenly finding he had no desire to swallow another spoonful. He gathered up the tray and held it out to Erestor. "I thank you kindly for your gracious hospitality, Lord Erestor." There was no missing the aristocratic tone of dismissal in the polite words.

The Lord of Meril Thaifn frowned. He was not about to be brushed off so easily. He took the tray and plunked it right down on the floor beside the bed, then settled more fully onto the mattress, sending the silvan a pointed look.

"You are more than welcome, Thranduilion."

"My name," this through gritted teeth, "is Legolas."

"And mine is Erestor."

"If the introductions are concluded could we please get on with it?" huffed the Istar in exasperation.

"But, Mithrandir, he must leave!" Legolas pointed at his host.

"I am not going anywhere; this is my house after all." Erestor slapped the finger away from its hovering position near his cheek. "I want answers!"

"Ow! It is for your protection." Legolas shook his hand and frowned at the Noldo. "Tell him to go, Mithrandir," he ordered.

"Nay. We need Erestor."

"What?"

"Hah!"

"But Mithrandir…"

"Legolas!"

Both elves jumped at the volume and vehemence of the wizard's shout and another silence descended upon the group in its aftermath. Mithrandir sighed and rubbed his forehead, for he felt the stirrings of a malicious migraine trying to take root, and then attempted to compose his features into a more congenial expression.

"All right, then, let us start over, shall we?" he began.

"Fine. There was no need for you to yell at me," sniffed Legolas, arms folded in front of his body and an affronted expression upon his downcast face.

"Aye, Legolas has endured a terrible ordeal, Gandalf. Try to be a little more understanding," chimed in Erestor.

"Thank you," said Legolas, surprised, and lifted a grateful countenance to his benefactor.

"Certainly," replied the Noldo with a warm smile. "Do you feel equal to this? If you are too weary we can wait a few more hours."

"Nay, I am well, thanks to your timely intervention."

"Ah, think nothing of it; you would have done the same."

The dialogue came to a halt as their eyes met and each became simultaneously, completely, and hopelessly lost while exploring the unsounded depths of the other's soul.

The Maia groaned and slumped dejectedly back into his chair.

"My dear, dear friends, I am sorry to interrupt this charming and quaint repartee, yet I must. Legolas, remember the matter of the portal. We must discuss the events that brought the pair of you together."  _Careful! Go gently this time,_ he cautioned himself.  _Erestor is right, the Wood Elf is more fragile than usual._

"Nay, Mithrandir, never will I forget!" cried Legolas, and the pain and sorrow in his heart was clear from the woeful timbre of his barely audible voice. A hand reached toward him and he instinctively extended his to meet it, finding his fingers enclosed within the Noldo lord's. The next instant Erestor's other hand covered the archer's, softly stroking the deceptive delicacy of the slender-boned manus, and the silvan stared at the protective clasp, finding his throat suddenly tight with inexpressible emotion. He lifted his eyes to the dark inky orbs of this unlikely supporter and found comfort in the encouraging nod and sympathetic smile upon his host's features.

"Take your time; just begin and it will be over before you realise it," said Erestor quietly and squeezed lightly. His soul soared when he felt Legolas return the pressure.

"Very well," a deep lungful in and out and then he launched into the tale. "We were betrayed. Ringë must have another contact on the inside of IMF, someone much higher. Every move we made was known in advance; indeed, I am convinced our actions were choreographed to someone's specific design."

"Why do you say this?" demanded the Istar in alarm.

"Because there were other agents in the field, working the same case. Or rather, they were working a different case, the real one, and we were set up. I recognised one of them and after our capture she revealed her connection to Ringë."

"Wait, wait wait," interposed Erestor. "I have no idea what you two are discussing. Please, I need the background information if I am to be of any help at all."

"Yet that is the very knowledge that will imperil you," Legolas objected, clutching tight to the fingers guarding his and staring in imploring entreaty deeply into the Noldo's eyes. "I will not deliberately put you in jeopardy."

"I am moved by your concern, but it is as I said before: Ringë has already seen me with you. Indeed, I was in your secret lair when he arrived. It was I who cast the freezing solution upon him and sealed him in the jar."

"What?" demanded the wizard in alarm.

"True and those are exactly the reasons I would name for limiting further involvement. If you drop from the scene now and remain in hiding until it is over…"

"Hold, I need to hear that earlier part again, please," interrupted Mithrandir. "Erestor, you did not mention any of this in your account!"

"What have you told him?" Legolas' eyes grew huge in alarm.

"Nothing, or rather just that Ringë tried to murder you. And there has not been a chance to explain more, Mithrandir. Nor am I going to hide. I am the owner of an important and esteemed business venture, Legolas, and my investors expect me to maintain a certain public presence." Poor Erestor tried his best to keep up with both sides of the conversation.

"Ai Valar! This is not what I wanted to happen!"

"But is has happened, through no fault of yours, Legolas," assured Erestor earnestly not wishing the silvan to blame himself for whatever was to come. "Ringë will never believe anything other than my complete involvement."

"Erestor is right. If you wish to protect him then knowledge is the best weapon to use in his defence. Without it, he may be misled and betrayed by those in Ringë's circle."

"Now start over from the beginning this time," encouraged Erestor.

"All right, it cannot be helped now I suppose. Where should I start, Mithrandir? I do not know how far back to go."

"I can supply the necessary basis," the wizard said kindly, seeing how distraught was Legolas' heart to have placed someone he so deeply cared for in harm's way. "But I would have the story of the freezing of Cold Lake first, if you please. Erestor, that is your cue."

Erestor complied, leaving out the unsavoury details of Ringë's sexual assault on his new friend, and by the time it was done Mithrandir was chuckling mirthlessly.

"Well, well, that was quite resourceful of you Legolas; I am impressed. And it alleviates to some extent the burden of haste pressing upon us. It is unlikely Ringë will be free anytime soon if the seal was in fact air tight."

"No, we cannot trust to more than three days' grace," Legolas disagreed, "and it has been one full night and a third of the first day already."

"That sounds grave," added Erestor, "and all the more reason to get on with this tale, Mithrandir. Please explain about the troubles in which Legolas is mired."

"Very well. I must warn you one final time, however, that once you possess this knowledge there is no turning back. Your life will change irrevocably and no more will you simply be Erestor the Lord of Meril Thaifn," the Istar droned darkly.

"What do you mean? Are you saying I must give up my wineries and my home?" Erestor had not quite expected that.

"If it was required to see this job through, would you do it?" demanded Mithrandir quietly.

"That is not fair, Mithrandir, he does not know what the job is," protested Legolas.

"Neither did you," the wizard turned his kindly, creased smile upon his elven friend as these words defeated further dissent before it might arise.

Now Erestor considered this request carefully. As he saw it, whatever the particulars might be, his duty was to keep Legolas alive and extricate him from whatever mess he was mixed up in. If that meant leaving behind his beloved Meril Thaifn, well he doubted he would be at peace there should further harm befall the Wood Elf. The thought of Legolas bleeding to death alone in that hidden cavern flooded his mind and sent his heart into horrified palpitations; the Noldo knew his decision had been made even before he considered it.

"So be it," he announced stubbornly. "Whatever it is, I will take it on and see it through with you, Legolas."

TBC

###  **Remmen vi Gonathras [Tangled in Entanglement]**

   
Legolas wailed in combined pain, shame, desire, and irritable impatience as he shifted his feet in the clinging curtains, intending to free himself from their inexplicable entanglement round his ankles, and inadvertently rubbed one thigh against his sensitive balls. He rolled to his back and propped himself up on his elbows so he could glare with fitting censure at his hard and florid cock, which gave no indication of resuming more manageable proportions anytime soon without either manual assistance or immersion in ice water. A brush of wind puffed the sheer drapes all around his body and in frustration he twisted to get out of the suffocating panels of fabric, succeeding only in yanking one section of the white coverings down atop his head, supporting rod, brackets, little sliding rings and all.

"Nestegi Sarnas!" [Fuck a pile of rocks!] he seethed, shoving the voluminous mass from his face as a soft giggle met his ears.

"That does not sound much like an erotic invitation, but you know I am up for anything you wish to try," whispered Elrohir, slipping his arms around Legolas' body and drawing him onto his lap. He pressed his burgeoning erection firmly against the Wood Elf's supple fleshy arse, propped his chin on the silvan's shoulder, and sucked in an excited breath. Legolas' penis was poking up out of the swirl of white material, verily calling for his touch. And Elrohir answered, reaching down and wrapping his fingers, callused from centuries of wielding a broadsword, around this lesser, more enthralling blade. His heart leaped when Legolas yelped and bucked forward into the compressing clasp, and rewarded the Wood Elf's response with a tantalising sweep of his thumb over the slippery glans.

"Ai!" Legolas shuddered.

"Oh, see how that fits my hand so well? I can grip you tight at the root and still the hot little head sticks out, begging for attention. Shall I lick it, would that please you? Valar, Legolas, let me fill you," he whispered in the archer's ear and bit its pointed tip, grinding his groin against the muscular mounds propped upon his loins. His other hand was anything but dormant, being employed in pinching and pulling at the firm little peaks of ripe red flesh pertly arising on the silvan's chest.

"Aye, that is…oh! Nay! Elrohir, nay, I…"

"Hush now, I know what you need. Close your eyes; pretend I am Erestor, as we always do." Elrohir's whispered words were husky and brimming with lascivious anticipation. He squeezed the shaft and the left nipple while simultaneously sucking in noisy delight upon the inflamed tip of Legolas' right ear.

"Ah Elrohir! Please oh please oh please," Legolas moaned helplessly, mesmerised by the talented fist pumping him so expertly, incapable of thought beyond the surging waves of tingling lubricity creeping through ever nerve, setting his muscles to quivering expectancy and every centimetre of bare skin afire. He leaned back against the Orc Slayer's heaving torso and crammed one hand under his arse, desperately trying to undo Elrohir's pants as the twin's pelvis continued to rock, shoving ever harder, the pace growing faster.

"Thranduilion, if I fuck you will you suck me?"

A sordid feral growl was the only reply this request received and Elrohir chuckled smugly as he claimed his conquest's mouth in a dominating kiss that nearly depleted the Wood Elf's orifice of saliva. Assuming the role of his former tutor was the easiest method of reducing Legolas to antagonistic surrender. There was nothing he could not be coerced into trying if the twins played the part of their father's kinsman well enough.

Elrohir's lips moved to the archer's elegant neck, intending to mark it with a prominent love-bite, but when Legolas angled his head to offer better access the dark ugly finger prints of his most recent lover's work came into view. The younger twin paused, uneasy about how rough he ought to be this time, and resumed his extravagant stimulation of the ear instead. It was at this precise moment that Elladan began sharing the conversation he was having with their former mentor.

_'Wait till Celebrian hears that Elrohir was pawing the poor elf's privates even as Legolas lay, barely conscious, unable to fend off such undesired molestation. I dare say it was not the first offence, was it?'_

Elrohir froze as this phrase reached him through his brother's thoughts. He ceased his nibbling stimulation of Legolas' ear and removed his hand at once from the archer's throbbing column of virile masculinity. The jutting pink penis refused to lie down, protruding at nearly right angles to the silvan's taut abdomen. Elrohir swallowed and squinched his eyelids shut, determined to heed this charge, one his conscience had presented often over the years and he had chosen to ignore. He let a second pass to compose his soul, then opened eyes, ears, and heart. In sorrow he realised Erestor's indictment was not lacking in accuracy.

The younger twin flinched as he took in Legolas' excited state. Heart pounding and breath escaping in great gasps of panting need, Legolas squirmed restlessly, his fingers still scrabbling ineffectually to untie the stubborn laces sealing away Elrohir's lust. A translucent bead of moisture welled up from the slit in the stiff silvan shaft and cascaded over the lip of the head, sliding down the long slender cock with excruciating slowness, dragging Elrohir's eyes along with it. He gulped down a deep breath, fighting back the urge to let his tongue make the same journey.

_Aye, lust. Have we only used him, pretending to offer comfort but really just taking our fill of him?_  He asked of Elladan.

_'You should both be ashamed of yourselves!'_  This remark from Erestor made its way back before Elladan had the chance to reply to his brother's query, and was followed by the immediate realisation of the indignant lament. They were beyond ashamed, seeing how they had so freely played their friend's responsive body against him for their own delight.

At this sudden, unflattering, objective perception of his actions Elrohir sighed and wrapped both arms around Legolas' shoulders tightly, hugging him close and squeezing his eyes closed to keep back a squall of mortified tears.

"What is it?" demanded Legolas, his voice low and wavering. "Do you spurn me now, too?" and he struggled mightily to get loose from his friend's close embrace, a sob working free from his lungs even as his body could not elude the twin's hold.  _They must sense it upon me; the taint of the Istar's seed. Mayhap the scent clings to me like stink betrays a rotting mere._  His efforts to flee increased.

"Nay, Legolas, you know that is not so," placated Elrohir, locking his arms together around his friend and holding on. "It is just that I have only now realised what I was doing."

"And suddenly that is disgusting to you? You are cruel to taunt me so! First Erestor and now you, too! Let me go! I have to get from here!"

"Ai Elbereth! Nay nay nay! Legolas be still and listen; neither of us are rejecting you. Valar! I want you so badly I may come in my pants if you do not cease your thrashing. And Erestor has just told Elladan he could not overcome his desire to touch you, and you know he is the penultimate example of absolute self-control."

"Then why? What is it that makes you stop, made him stop?" Legolas turned in Elrohir's arms and burrowed his face beneath the Noldo's chin. "I am willing to allow…"

"Aye, you are always willing. You always let us manipulate you to our satisfaction, but today it was not your wish to be aroused to this state in the first place. It has been made clear to me that often this is the case, yet we never listen when you tell us no. That is why Erestor stopped; only he feels even worse because of what you have endured, not saying what it was though I can guess easily enough, Legolas. And that is why I will not continue something I should never have initiated. Nor will I ever disregard your refusal again, this I swear, if only you will forgive me, Cuthenin. [True Bow] Please say that you will!"

"Of course I do," Legolas answered and then sighed. He stirred uncomfortably in the twin's arms and Elrohir let him go. "You just picked a most inopportune moment to have this enlightenment and its ensuing adjustment in character." He complained and struggled to his feet, accepting Elrohir's help to do so.

"True, and I am sorry for that also," apologised Elrohir, biting his lip as he watched Legolas stomp into the bathing chamber, cock bowing between his thighs as he went, and winced when the sound of splashing water and a groan of misery followed.

The archer returned, dripping wet from the waist down, robe demurely tucked around his naked body, and shot Elrohir an accusing glare as he hastened to the bed and climbed under the sheets. These he dragged completely over his head as he huddled into a dejected little mound in the middle of the mattress.

"Oh pen dithen," [little one] Elrohir sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, patting what he hoped was only a shoulder through the covers. "Will you sleep if I sing to you?" The younger of Elrond's sons did not await the reply, however, instead filling the room with the opening verses of his dear friend's favourite lullaby.

This fact he had discovered one night in Gondor when all three elves were at the palace and Arwen's second-born was fraught with colic. The poor babe had cried and cried, inconsolable, refusing her mother's breast and her father's bouncing and jiggling antics, screaming in her uncles' arms whether they paced the nursery or rocked her in the willow-wood rocker gifted to the royal couple by Rumil of Lorien. They all sang and made faces, changed the infant's swaddling, cooed and cajoled and clucked to no avail. Nothing worked and finally the exhausted family members had escaped to their quarters, unable to endure more, leaving the nanny to ensure the child came to no harm.

When the screeching had abruptly ceased amid the dulcet strains of the archer's tenor, it was this lullaby that Legolas had chosen to sing. Elrohir had got to the babe's room first and the image of Legolas, moonlight shining through his sheer night-shirt, protectively cradling the infant against his heart, the crown of her tiny head tucked under his cheek as he gently swayed in time with the melody, had been heart-wrenchingly sweet and disturbingly erotic at the same time.

As he sang, Elrohir reflected that he would need either a lengthy, invigorating bath with his brother or a swift dip in the garden's brook before he would be able to think of anything other than burying his long shaft deep into the heat of Legolas' arse and spilling his ecstasy therein.

"Elladan summons me, hên rhovan," [wild child] said Elrohir, the song finished, and leaned over to kiss the part of the unyielding bump where he thought Legolas' head might be. He made his excuses, knowing the archer was not asleep but was at least a little calmer and more at ease. "We will visit again before you leave and speak of how to take advantage of this extraordinary coincidence. Vairë tires of your mooning and pining. Why you want the grouchy old prude only Iluvatar knows, but Erestor is not as indifferent to your charms as you imagined. You must make your feelings known at last."

A forlorn and panicked little noise issued from the bulge and it twitched briefly.

"Do not fret; we will help you claim your prize," promised Elrohir as he quietly exited and shut the door. 

TBC

 


	8. Chapter 8

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Eight: Debriefing, Decisions, and Discoveries

  
Legolas stared in amazed and grateful wonder, squeezing hard on his friend's slender fingers, and brought his other hand to lay upon the Noldo Lord's, utterly speechless. He was simultaneously elated to have such a firm commitment and aggrieved to have his beloved Seneschal placed in jeopardy on his account. 

"Excellent! I knew we could count on you! Everyone gives Vairë such voluble complaints for her twists and turns of fate, but I highly approve her setting your path upon this auspicious intersection with Thranduilion's." Mithrandir actually rubbed his palms together in satisfaction. "Now then, you know of the boundary betwixt this reality and the regions of Arda once called Middle-earth," he began and then stopped, grimacing in aggravation and patting his hands over his robes. 

"Yes, that is known to everyone, Gandalf, please continue," urged Erestor. "What is IMF and to what portal are you referring?" 

"Bah, I cannot endure a lengthy narration without my pipe," he grumped and rose from his seat. Two strides took him to the mantle over the empty grate and he pulled on the braided satin cord twice to summon the help. He had not even resumed his chair when two brisk raps sounded on the door and Galion popped inside. It was quite obvious he had to have been just outside the suite to get there so quickly. 

"Who rang and what for?" he demanded, then grinned to see his favourite Wood Elf prince awake and clear-minded. He hurried right to the bed and practically ripped Erestor's hands off the silvan in order to gather Legolas close in a strong embrace. "There he is! You look much better for your rest, Brannon'eth. [young Lord] Did you have the scones and tea? Hervessen [the missus] made it just how you like it."  

"Aye, Galion, but I am not a Lord anymore," Legolas smiled as he returned the hug, sending the Noldo an apologetic glance over the butler's shoulder, and had to grab onto the mobile covers quickly to prevent exposing himself again. 

"Nonsense!" He patted the archer's back and then held him arm's length out to complete his inspection. Galion did not miss the prince's gesture and twitched the sheet back just a hair to satisfy his suspicions. "Long will you be a Lord among the silvans." 

"Galion!" hissed Legolas and flashed a look in Erestor's direction. Sure enough, the Noldo's eyes were trained right on his lap. Legolas dropped his sight there, too, and gulped, for the bright red tip of his cock was just visible above the disobedient cotton drape. He sighed in resignation; after all, his host had already seen him in full-fledged, wet and tumid erubescence. A quick rearrangement rectified the problem, or rather covered it up again, and this time Legolas kept one hand firmly attached to the drift-prone fabric. 

"Now who rang?" Galion completely ignored Legolas' rebuke and stepped back from the bed.  He favoured the other two with piercing stares, as though sending for the chief steward was an inexcusable example of sloth and an unacceptable infringement on his precious time. 

"I did," barked the wizard. "I need my pipe and leaf." 

"Ah, Mithrandir, perhaps…" Legolas attempted to warn him just a few seconds too late. 

"Need is a relative term, and in the current frame of reference your desire to indulge that filthy habit is outweighed by Legolas' need to breathe. The smoke does not agree with Brannonlas [Leaf Lord] and his lung is still tender from the injury," lectured Erestor's seneschal. 

"Do not disrespect guests in my house!" thundered Erestor, rising from the bed, angry and mortified all at the same time. "Apologise immediately or I shall be forced to demand your resignation!" 

"What, again? I will not ask pardon for doing my job, which is to look after this household, is it not?" 

"Yes, but that does not include castigating the guests for…" 

"Guests? Those two are family folk, or as near as possible to it without sharing the same ancestors," Galion countered, hands on hips. 

A short silence ensued, for Erestor was shocked speechless, Mithrandir could not decide whether to feel insulted or honoured, and Legolas knew better than to bother arguing the point, having been raised under Galion's brusque and earthy philosophies.  

"Why, thank you, Galion," Mithrandir, having decided he had indeed been conferred high praise, gruffly mumbled a response and broke the solitude. He stood as he spoke and paced to the open windows, finding he needed to check on the weather or the height of the sun, perhaps. It was evident his shoulders quaked minutely, but whether this was from suppressing tears or laughter none of the elves could determine.  

"You may smoke out on the porch, then," the august major-domo relented and left the room, his voice, answering some unheard query, trailing faintly behind. "…have our Brannonlas settled down right soon, Hervessen." 

The suite was quiet for an interminable moment longer. 

"I am terribly sorry, Mithrandir, but that is as much a concession as Galion is likely to grant," explained Legolas. 

"No need for apologies; he is quite right, quite right. Your lung is delicate still, no doubt," the Maia smiled over his shoulder. 

"Actually, I meant you shall have to retrieve the pipe yourself," the silvan murmured in chagrin. 

"Oh." The Istar snorted a small amused grunt and shook his head. "I have decided I am rather fond of that steward," he announced and walked out onto the veranda. "Erestor, help Legolas out to the chaise while I fetch the accoutrements of my 'filthy habit'." 

Alone in the room, the two elves fretted over how to achieve the wizard's directive without repeating, and exceeding, the earlier episode of fondling, given the archer's aggravated state of arousal and the vintner's lack of will-power. Erestor was not certain, if he touched Legolas just now, whether he would be able to master the urge to learn first-hand about some of the silvan's specific preferences. For his part, Legolas was terrified that he would lose control and come undone the instant he felt Erestor's arms around him. There was also some unfinished business each felt the need to address, and chose the exact same moment to do so. 

"Hannaden." "Gohenna nîn." "An van?" [My thanks. Forgive me. For what?] The phrases, spoken in unison, made them laugh together, too. 

"Nay, you have nothing to thank me for," Erestor started again. 

"Well, you have no need for pardon from me. And in any case I am grateful for your discretion regarding Ringë." 

"Ah, I have already said I am the one to blame for that and therefore no gratitude is owed. And instead of rectifying the first error, I committed another. I should not have been so free with my hands this morning, especially after Ringë's assault and Elrohir's manipulations." 

"Oh, that! I was not offended," Legolas' heart soared to hear that the reason for the Noldo's abrupt cessation of attention had nothing to do with disgust or revulsion. His pulse was hammering so strongly he wondered if his host could hear it. "And I would call saving my life a fitting way to over-rule any insult you might imagine to have given." 

They were both amazed at how easy mastering the awkward topic had turned out to be and felt a tremendous lifting of pressure to have got the troubling incidents all behind them. The pleasantries died away again as the spooners became so engrossed in contemplating how stunningly magnificent the other was and how miraculously startling was this sudden accord that neither acknowledged the Maia's return until he coughed loudly from the porch. 

"You are both inside yet I distinctly recall asking you to come out on the veranda. Really, we cannot put off this discussion, unpleasant though it undoubtedly shall be." 

"Yes, yes, we are coming, Mithrandir," avowed Erestor. 

"Oh I certainly hope not," mumbled the Istar under his breath. 

"What did you say?" demanded the Noldo irritably, displeased with the innuendo. 

"Hurry up, you try my patience." 

Erestor turned back to the bed and met Legolas' embarrassed stare. 

"All right, we can do this," he whispered, feeling it best to treat the situation as any ordinary little problem, like what to do when one locked the safe with the keys inside or arrived at market to discover the shopping list left at home. "Do you want your leggings?" 

"Nay; cannot possibly get them on just now," Legolas' responding whisper was accompanied by a sheepish shrug. 

"Right. What about some pyjama pants? Those are designed to fit loosely. Plus, I am larger than you and…" 

"That remains to be seen." 

A half-second's silence while Legolas smirked and Erestor lifted his left brow a minuscule amount. 

"…and I could send Galion for a pair of mine." 

"Sometime this Age, if you please!" called Mithrandir in exasperation. 

"Lend me the ones you have on now and that will do." 

"What?" 

"Your robe is long enough to cover you. Honestly, why is nudity so intimidating to you?" 

"It is not a question of timidity, Thranduilion, but a matter of decency. Public exposure of one's naked body just is not appropriate." 

"Stop calling me that, LORD Erestor. And what is wrong with the naked form? Eru did not cause us to be born with garments on." 

"Just give him the pants!" shouted the wizard. 

Both elves startled and stared out at Mithrandir's smoke-wreathed, livid, and exceedingly wrathful countenance glaring at them through the open window. 

"Tad churlish, is he not?" whispered Erestor, turning his back to Legolas and shimmying out of the green silk garment. It did not occur to him that wiggling his rear end in that way was enticing the Wood Elf until a low soft cry met his ears. It was then that the idea of the cloth, still warm with the heat of his aroused flesh, sliding sinuously over the sensuous silvan's skin, entered the Noldo's mind and brought his stirring erection dramatically to attention. He gathered the robe close around him and handed over the pyjamas. 

"Aye, I do not know what has got into him today. First he screams at me and now he takes us both to task," agreed Legolas. As he took the offered pants he could not resist a cursory inspection of Erestor's lower half to see if any useful information might reveal itself. Erestor had himself well covered, however, and with a mischievous grin Legolas crawled under the sheets completely, determined to dress himself without aid this time. 

Erestor thought this was rather modest behaviour from someone so set on lauding the merits of public nudity but decided not to voice the observation lest the Wood Elf take up the challenge and boldly present himself as bare as Eru made him. While the Noldo was not so much against that, there was a wizard just outside on the veranda peering in, Dammand was hovering in the front hall, and Galion and Tulus had decided it was time to subject the first floor to a thorough scrubbing. _Too much audience._  

As Erestor pondered that, Legolas was undergoing a dilemma of his own. In the confined space created by the concealing covers, he was nearly overcome by the concentrated scent of the Noldo wafting from the borrowed pants. He donned the pyjamas; warm, slippery silk sliding up his thighs, tickling his balls, and gracing his inflamed cock with the barest and most intensely erotic friction he had ever known. 

The notion that the soft fabric had only just been wrapped around the most intimate and private areas of the noble's physique, and was now caressing his excited organs in exactly the same manner, almost brought Legolas to ecstasy on the spot. There was bound to be some residue of Erestor's essence, his musk and sweat and hair, still attached to the fine material, mingling now with the slick secretion crowning Legolas' aching erection. He shuddered, unaware of the scarcely detectable priapic grunt of yearning that issued from his obscured form. 

"Are you well?" whispered Erestor, unable to keep the grin out of his voice. It evolved into a complacent chuckle when the question initiated a whirlwind of angry motion as Legolas threw back the covers and bounded from the bed. 

"I am perfect," quoth the silvan in an incongruously dangerous sounding sultry purr, blue eyes flashing and head high. The effect was somewhat spoiled when he wavered slightly and had to step sideways to keep from keeling over. 

"Careful!" Erestor cautiously took hold of Legolas' elbow and held it. 

"Hannad," Legolas decided he was not really angry over the jibe once Erestor's fingers were so ably wrapped around the crook of his arm. He sighed and smiled with genuine amusement, assessing their attire. It certainly looked like they had just spent the night together, as indeed they had, though the activities shared had been anything but bawdy. "Mithrandir awaits, shall we at last accede to his demands and venture outside?" 

"As you wish, but it is rather comical to see him so flustered with impatience." 

"Oh this is nothing. You should see him when Minya'dar and I start arguing over the implications for the Song of Iluvatar if one concedes the fractal dimension of the universe to be Pi." 

"Ah. You realise that is utter nonsense you just spoke, do you not? Perhaps the poison is still affecting you." 

"Nay, it is not. I agree the notion seems farfetched but there is some research to suggest that the degrees of variability in even the most complex system need not be many if said variability is incorporated into a simple set of rules that then iterates over time." 

"Mmm." 

"Stop showing off, Legolas," ordered Mithrandir. "You have more information than Erestor but that does not guarantee that you are either smarter or wiser. Glad you two finally decided to join me. Please be seated, get comfortable. On separate chairs, if you will." 

The wizard watched from under his bunched, bushy, irascible brows as Erestor escorted Legolas to the same lounge he had occupied earlier and made certain he was comfortable before taking a chair himself. The Wood Elf looked a bit miffed to be snubbed so harshly but otherwise seemed much his usual self. The Noldo was hopelessly under Legolas' spell and probably would not be able to contribute much that did not bear on appreciative acknowledgement of various aspects of the archer's face and form. The Istar shifted his sight between both expectant faces and cleared his throat before taking a long draw on his pipe. 

"Now then, a history lesson. The Valar decided to separate the Undying Lands from the rest of Arda and set an impenetrable boundary of confusion and misdirection around the ocean's coastlines. None can find their way here without the consent of the Valar…" 

"Which is actually a rather unique construction," Legolas interrupted and addressed Erestor with excited exuberance, "employing the concept of variable polarity in the common water molecule as a sort of self-perpetuating nano-scale dynamo that, while individually is fairly useless, once synchronised across veritable,  _billions_  of these molecules results in an effective screen that shields access to the regions of Aman from discovery. 

"The barrier isn't actually a barrier at all, you see, but rather a nifty little dimensional twist…" Eager tones and expressive hand gestures. "…that allows a rather elegant parallelism to exist neatly concealed within a comparably minuscule and seemingly random portion of the ocean on the human side…" Full-blown, earnest intensity, all attention locked on the Noldo vintner. 

"…which relocates at, again, seemingly random intervals that really are entirely predictable and thus not random at all but simply variable…" Complete immersion in the fascinating minutia and erroneous assumption of the universal character of said fascination. "…and the degrees of variability are not so hard to define once you understand what to look for. Only now some physicists over there have stumbled on it, and if we do not stop them the Blessed Realm is going to be overrun, a veritable tidal wave of humanity will sweep into Aman." 

"Do you really think so?" Erestor was grinning in spite of himself, for though Legolas was raving like an elf who had made the error of drinking Dorwinion while inhaling some of Galadriel's more unusual varieties of incense, the Noldo found his enthusiasm completely endearing. "And did you just say 'isn't'?" He found it adorable for the former prince to use such a cute, Hobbity sort of colloquialism.  _Almost as entertaining as the swearing._

"Absolutely. And, yes."  

"Indeed, it is highly probable unless we find a way to halt the progress of this research." growled Mithrandir. "Now if I may be permitted to continue?" 

"Of course," Legolas conceded with a bow of his head. 

"Hannad. I doubt that explanation, obscurely detailed as it was, proved very enlightening for you, Erestor. Let me summarise: the Valar have all of the Blessed Realm tucked into a five-hundred thousand square league triangle of open ocean near the eastern coast of one of the more populated continents in the Severed Realms, known as North America. This area itself does not shift around overly much; the portal within it does indeed change location within set geographic limits." 

"They have tucked us hidden where? Mithrandir, with all respect, that makes less sense than Legolas' description of…of nano-scale whatever-they-are. There are three continental land masses and associated seas in Aman, comprising far more area than that meagre sum you mentioned. It is physically impossible." Erestor stated in exasperation. 

"Well Mithrandir is just trying to explain it in a less exact manner, that is all. You see, the concept of space and area with respect to time is all relative to one's perspective. It is possible for the idea of 'placeness' to be coincident in time while divergent in dimensional occupancy for any given region. Conversely, the same area may be divergent and non-linear in regards to time while being congruously redundant respective to spatial dimensionallity." Legolas interjected. 

"That does not help." Erestor intoned drily. 

"History. Think of events happening in a sequence over time. What I did yesterday is in the past, correct? It was meant to happen, then it happened, now it is over and irreversible." 

"Aye." 

"It can be looked at differently, though. What happened yesterday is just one of many possible conjunctions of the given set of variables. In order for you and I to experience any one of those combinations, all the possible combinations must collapse into a single, observable series of events. You could not both remain by the pool painting and swim over to save me. Yet both those events were almost equally probable. As soon as you chose to swim, all the other possible sequences of events pursuant to remaining by the pool and painting were forced to acquiesce to the dominant or most probable outcome." 

"Legolas, that is about as clear as the sky above Mt. Doom during Sauron's occupation of Mordor." 

"It is like that when sailing to Aman." The silvan pressed on determinedly, ignoring the complaint. "Once the area in question is encountered, there are several possible outcomes with varying degrees of probability for achieving what we may call, for convenience of this discussion, actuality. One possibility is that the ship will become lost, sometimes for decades, another that it may be wrecked and sink beneath the water, or it may simply sail through this stretch of ocean without any difficulty, reaching a small archipelago, locally referred to as Bermuda, at its centre. A forth is that the ship will coincide with the portal and pass through the dimensional corkscrew to arrive in Aman. But to bring about that forth possibility, one with an incredibly high improbability factor, one must either know the portal exists and how to open it, have someone open it for you, or be elf-kind." 

"Fine. Let me tell you what I gathered out of all that. There is a very small region of ocean in the Severed Realms in which is crammed three continents with abundant flora and fauna, five associated oceans also teeming with plant and animal life, all of the Valar, the Valarindi and the Ainur, and several million elves of various ethnic origins. Correct thus far?" 

"No, that's completely wrong."

"Ah."

"Only the portal is concealed there. Aman is indeed huge, and that is why the dimensional phase shift is necessary. Otherwise everything would crowd together and that would not be pleasant. Well we are all together in the same place, actually; everything is just out of phase slightly. There is probably a rock or a tree where I am right now. In the Severed Realms, I mean."

"Yes, of course."

"Legolas you are just confusing the issue," complained the wizard. "If it helps you to think of Aman as being compressed into a tiny little area, Erestor, then just go with it."   

"And this feat of being shrunk without anyone being aware of having been altered is made possible by encountering and passing through a sort of doorway within that small parcel of salty brine, only achievable if one has the instructions or is let in by someone else who has them, or is an elf." 

"No one has been reduced in size, Erestor," Legolas giggled. "That would hardly be any fun! Think of it as a sort of displacement if that helps. Oh! I know! If I go stand behind a tree and you cannot see me there, I have not got smaller or disappeared, I am simply no longer within your range of visual perception. And, if you try to come around the tree and discover me, I can sneak to the opposite side and still remain beyond your field of view. I can even shift to hide behind a different tree if necessary, and thus remain concealed indefinitely! That is how the portal works.

"Now, to see how the phase shift works, let us take as our example you and I, seated as we are on separate chairs on this patio of your magnificent estate. Truly beautiful, what I have seen of it; I meant to say so before things began distracting me."

"Thank you, I am rather pleased with it. Shall I really have to give it up in order to get through this adventure?"

"Nay, not permanently, I am sure. Being a respected and esteemed entrepreneur is an excellent cover for an agent. But back to the example: you and I are both here in this place; we exist concurrently, yes?"

"Aye."

"Good. However, if you come over here and try to lie down on the chaise, you simply cannot do it."

"Well what do you mean? That is ridiculous, of course I can!"

"No, you can't"

"Thranduilion, this is pointless. We all know that I certainly can."

"Show me then."

"Fine. You shall have to move out of the way, pen-neth."

"Exactly! You've got it! You cannot lie on the chaise while I am lying on the chaise, unless you lie on top of me or I make room on the edge. We are here in the general region or area, at the same time; however, we cannot both occupy the exact same spatial location at precisely the same moment in time. That is how the dimensional displacement works. Aman and the Severed Realms are both here in the same spacial vicinity, but not in the exact same temporal moment. Its a fermi surface effect, actually."  

Erestor raised his brows, for this at least made a mental image possible, though hiding continents behind water molecules was too much of a stretch for him and so he refused to allow the concept admittance, and the ridiculous explanation became believable and even probable. How it was done, this the Noldo despaired of comprehending. And he knew better than to take the bait and ask what a fermi surface was.  _Rogue Wood Elves and their confoundable magic._  

"Good, that is much clearer. Now, do not bother trying to explain how the gateway operates; I do not want to hear anymore about the nano-scale whatever-it-is created by water droplets." 

"Oh but that is the most interesting part! Do you know what the chemical composition of sea water is? Fascinating and absolutely perfect for manipulations such as this. Arda is really just functioning as a tremendous dirty raindrop nucleated around a highly differentiated chunk of ferro-magnesian silicates and assorted oxides," enthused Legolas. 

"Yes, Legolas it is indeed an engrossing topic; however, we must press on and get to the matter at hand. Erestor understands enough about the portal's existence. Let us discuss why the barrier is now endangered." The Istar interrupted with an indulgent smile and leaned over to pat the pyjama clad knee.    
   
He puffed out a beautiful smoke-ring stallion bearing an elven knight carrying a majestic banner that whipped in the breeze and sent this trotting over to Legolas, because he knew the archer absolutely loved horses above all of Yavanna's other quadrupeds, and because he wished to apologise for his bad temper. He was really rather pleased and impressed that the Wood Elf had made the confusing topic at least conceivable to the Noldo lord, and he wished he had not accused Legolas of being a show-off.  _Nothing wrong with loving the designs of Eru and seeking to understand them thusly._

"I am sorry for my ill-tempered outburst, Legolas, and for calling you Thranduilion so many times in one morning." 

"Oh that is all right; it was only twice," Legolas smiled, too pleased over the opportunity to explain about the inter-dimensional corkscrew to be bothered by the affront any longer. He blew gently and sent the ephemeral horse and rider toward Erestor. "Very nice, Mithrandir, I wish the Hobbits were here to see that! And, I regret interrupting your narration. Please continue." 

"Yes, what is this dire catastrophe and what is IMF?" Erestor prompted the wizard, waving his hand rapidly to get the dissipating fumes away from his nose. 

"IMF stand for Istui Mornedhil Faradrim: Learned Dark-eleven Hunters. This is a league of elves operating to thwart the unethical manipulation of the barrier and unjustified interference in the Severed Realms," Legolas answered just as Mithrandir opened his mouth to speak. The irrepressible Wood Elf really could not help himself sometimes. 

"Why moriquendi? Surely the Calaquendi are equally eager to keep the portal operational. Wait a minute; why must it be operational at all? There are no more elves left to cross over. Would it not be easier to simply lock it up and thus prevent anyone from getting through?" Erestor thought this an obvious solution and wondered that no one had tried to implement it. 

"That is not desirable. I already explained that. The barrier is not really a physical barrier; the portal is not any sort of actual door one can shut. It is the nexus for a state of coincident yet divergent dimensional coexistence that is rather delicate, actually, and if it collapses then the separated dimensional realities will once more converge. We cannot be here in Aman and there in the Severed Realms at the same dimensional location and relative time frame. A choice has to be made. So if Aman is not here, then it has to be somewhere else, and since it is a part of Arda then it must shift relative to either time or place. 

"If the Blessed Realm shifts in time, then it must either recede into the past, in which case we will get caught in a nasty loop, forced to return to some distant point of origin in order to make the now possible, or the now ceases to exist, yet we will never get beyond this specific point of nowness. Alternately, we could shift to some far distant part of the future, but that would mean everything in that yet-to-be time would not happen until the now events required to bring them about transpired, and again what we are would simply not be. 

"We could shift in dimensional placement. That would necessitate dislocating something in the space available within the actual possibilities open to us, of which there are only a limited number given our physical properties. I do not feel it would be ethical to force the humans from their existence, even though they are rather linear, for actuating the reality of the Undying Lands within the dimensional space currently held by similar land masses in the Severed Realms would effectively destroy the mortals, for they lack the innate property of immortality and would not willingly shift into an alternate dimensional state." 

"You cannot know that for certain. Has anyone made an attempt to confer with their leaders about any of this?" Erestor refused to allow the silvan's confusing explanation to take hold and doggedly stated his argument anew. 

"Nay, Erestor, their leaders are not the sort we want to deal with!" Legolas was alarmed. "And I assure you none of them would agree to altering their state of existence within the Severed Realms." 

"But how can you be sure if you have not asked them?" 

"Others did ask, notably Finrod son of Finarfin son of Finwë, in depth and at length, long ago when humans and elf-kind cohabited the Severed Realms. In fact, the only alternate dimensional existence available to them is commonly called death. You do recollect the bitterness that arose among the Numenoreans about this issue and the whole concept of a hidden kingdom where everyone lives forever? The foolish creatures refuse to get it into their brains that immortality is not conferred by living in Aman; rather Aman exists to accommodate our immortality without interfering with their linearity." 

"Oh, that. Quite." 

"As for why moriquendi, well that is a touchy subject I am afraid. You, I believe, are moriquendi as am I? You were born in Middle-earth and ventured here only after the defeat of Sauron?" 

"You know this is true." 

"Those who have never dwelled in the Severed Realms do not view it the same way we do." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean they do not love and cherish it, hold fond memory of its lands and divers peoples. It was dangerous and often lethal, challenging and exhilarating, intriguing and ever new; for many minds worked upon it simultaneously and so many more variables were thus introduced, resulting in an increased degree of probability for surprising results. Not boring at all, at any rate." 

"True, but what has that to do with anything?"

"The Vanyarin elves and those among the Noldor and Teleri that crossed over before the First Age began tend to view Middle-earth as either a trial best forgotten, a menace barely avoided, or a resource to be exploited. The Noldor tend to favour the first idea, the Teleri hold to the second notion, and the Vanyar maintain the last. And because the Vanyar are in positions of high estate among the Valar, they have almost as much power, at least when it comes to manipulating forces and contriving to enhance the probability factor of success for certain highly profitable dealings. To this end, they have engaged the compliance of specific, and significant, numbers of the Maiar." 

"Are you trying to tell me the people of Inwë, noblest of all the High Elves, are involved in the affairs of the Severed Realms?" Erestor was rather incredulous.

"Indeed, Legolas speaks the truth," Mithrandir averred. "We have known of this lucrative yet vile enterprise for quite some time. We cannot hope to halt the activity entirely, yet there are some practices that simply cannot be allowed. We are having a very difficult time of it, for the humans are gaining knowledge at a rapid rate now and have devised methods of destroying all except the most resilient forms of life, are rapidly poisoning the air and waters of the world, depleting the abundant gifts of Ulmo, Yavanna, and Aulë much more quickly than they can be replenished, breeding like rabbits and warring one another in efforts to gain control of these diminishing resources. And overall is the incessant lust for power and its requisite commodity of wealth."

"I am afraid I fail to see the connection. What could the Vanyar want from the mortals in the Severed Realms?"

"It is not any physical thing like gold or jewels. They crave sport, much as the humans do. The High Elves pit the various peoples of the Severed Realms against one another and then sit back and watch, wagering huge sums, outrageous concessions, and sometimes immortal lives. They bet on the probability of the specific reactions the humans will exhibit in response to their niggling interference and what sort of events these will propagate. They are blatantly forcing all sorts of dire tragedies to come to pass and have done so all along, apparently. Civilisations have arisen and subsequently been crushed into ruin by these whims of the Vanyar. Yet now the humans are able to cause such wholesale destruction that the effects on the Blessed Realm cannot be assumed insignificant."

"And the Vanyar are the ones who instigated this unpleasant possibility," the wizard spoke in disgusted tones. "They have decided to play the death card anew, letting awareness of the barrier become a part of the mortals' thoughts again, after so long a stretch of ignorance. The current game is a sort of technological race to see which group of humans solves the puzzle first. The Vanyar do not believe that the humans' arrival here will result in the absolute destruction of our way of life. In fact, they are looking forward to the invasion, considering it will be enjoyable to war against the unsuspecting humans and massacre them."

"Nay! I cannot believe this!" Erestor protested vigourously.

"Not all the Vanyar wish this to happen; only a small fraction of the most powerful Lords and Ladies participate in the foul gaming. Among the majority, some that do secretly wish it imagine practising a sort of benevolent enslavement of the humans. Rather how they viewed the arrival of the silvan elves at the end of the Third Age. Well, we were not open to their ideas of hospitality and proved a disappointment to them in that regard. They think, should the humans find their way here, that they will have a grovelling, worshipful host of expendable beings to do their bidding and make life more fun. For them, of course," replied Legolas.

"Aye, there is talk that the notion of immortality is being whispered about as something conferrable upon mortals willing to go to extremes to earn it or grow bold enough to come and claim it. The Vanyar responsible for this reason that those who make it here will die without returning, since their life span is so short, and there will be an endless supply of new humans willing to take up the challenge under the false hope of being granted the boon of everlasting life," added Mithrandir.

"That is unconscionable conduct! Humans are the Second-born of Iluvatar and free in their own right! Eru will never allow such a thing to come to pass, and surely Manwë will prevent those elves from achieving such an evil end!"

"Manwë knows there are some who wish this, yet he has left the matter to Inwë as their King and Lord," the Istar groused. "That is the official version. Unofficially, IMF combats these invidious practices, venturing back through the portal to introduce unexpected variables into the Vanyar's carefully planned equations, thus altering the results and making the ventures unprofitable. However, an unfortunate side effect occurred. The Vanyar found our intervention heightened the excitement of the game, raising the improbability factor for their chosen outcome, and thus pushed both the betting and the scheming to new heights."

"Well then why do you not simply stop? Surely they will lose interest and everything will go back to normal," opined Erestor.

"This is normal, for the Vanyar," objected Legolas. "They have been doing this for thousands of years. And we did desist, for a long time, until the concept of the portal and its actual workings was leaked to some clever physicists by one of the Lords of the High Elves. Now we are facing an invasion of proportions even the Vanyar refuse to consider, for they believe that the humans are not a serious threat to elf-kind. What they really think is that watching the moriquendi and the humans battle for dominance of Aman will be amusing, and of course they will remain safe within their protected cities on Taniquetil, sniping at or capturing any foolish mortals bold enough to attempt to storm the mountain.

"On the human side, the competition to gain exclusive access to the portal has resulted in endeavours to create brand new ones completely beyond the knowledge of the Valar. These scientists are very intelligent and build on one another's efforts over time. Additionally, they are getting help from some of the Maiar, of whom Ringë is the most devious and cold-hearted. He has succumbed to the desire to master the Severed Realms, promising his human colleagues power and wealth and, above all else, immortality. Yet the constant interference from the Vanyarin gamers, and/or IMF agents, have thwarted his plots and plans time and again.

"He is now intent upon revenge, desiring to open all of the Blessed Realm to occupation by the mortal peoples of Arda. And he is smart enough to turn the gamers' scheming against them. The High Lords have forgot that these Maiar are not subject to them or to the same physical laws that hinder the humans. Their arrogance will be their undoing and also cause a terrible clash between our separate worlds, resulting in untold numbers of elves lost to Mandos and enslavement of the humans not destroyed outright." The archer concluded this grim account and no one had anything to say in response for awhile.

Erestor just stared from the wizard to the Wood Elf in disbelief. Whatever he might have conjectured regarding Legolas' clandestine activities, this seething undercurrent of gaming over human life and the fate of Arda was not on that list. The vintner could not imagine such a sport and had never heard anything of it, and this despite having many friends among the High Elves. That struck him as important, for if he was not informed, how would Legolas have come to know of it? He decided to ask, but once more the canny silvan was attuned to his thoughts and answered before the query passed the Noldo's lips.

"They have bet on things, or rather people and places, very important to me, twice. And not only that, I was the prize to be won by the victors. I have been told by a source I do not question that the wagering on these two egregious enterprises reached heights never matched before or since.

"The first game involved whether a certain region of forested land would be stripped of all its plant life or if the Wood Elves would intervene and end the deforestation of the remnant of Greenwood the Great. I was approached and told of the underhanded ploy by one of the players and informed that the entire matter was in my hands. Of course I immediately insisted for the destruction to be halted. The elf laughed and explained that I was granted a choice of three options and two of them could bring to fruition my stated goal.

"I could submit to sexual subjugation by the players, of which there were six elves and three Maiar." Legolas paused as Erestor uttered an appalled and incoherent exclamation of outraged disgust. "The length of time for this perverted enslavement was to be ten Valian years." (Note: one Valian year is equivalent to almost 9.6 solar years!) Legolas' cheeks flushed and his eyes grew cold with restrained wrath. "For each one of them individually, not concurrently.

"The second choice was to defy the Law of the Valar and enter into the Severed lands, there to overtake the region by force and repopulate the land with others of my people. Thus I could prevent the humans from having further access to the area, although much death and bloodshed would occur and the existence of a forgotten race would be revealed. I would of course have to continue the vigilant defence of the forest indefinitely, meaning separation from everyone I know and care for here, and would never be allowed back without facing the judgement of Manwë in any case.

"The third option was to do nothing and simply allow the trees to be destroyed, for the stewardship of Arda had passed from the hands of elf-kind at the end of the Third Age, by Iluvatar's Will." Legolas fell silent and gloomy then and refused to look at either of his companions.

"Legolas decided to try a different tactic altogether. He did indeed return to Middle-earth and go to the region in question, but he found an alternative the players had not chosen to offer. Thus he salvaged the trees and angered the authors of the scheme mightily, for they neither had the toy they desired for their use nor the exorbitant sum in mithril each had hoped to win. No one made any profit, for none had chosen to bet on the silvan's ingenuity and daring. He has been rather a target for them ever since, I am afraid," Mithrandir puffed in ill-humour on the long stem of his curved clay pipe and supplied the answer to the question Erestor had feared to ask.

"What happened when you went there?" asked the Noldo softly, getting up and sitting on the edge of the chaise just as Elrohir had done. He was beyond relieved to know Legolas had not become a sexual plaything for a coterie of Vanyarin and Istari reprobates.

"I found I was not the only one involved in defeating the ugly wager," Legolas looked up at the Lord of Meril Thaifn and smiled a little. "Minya'dar was already there and he had started a campaign among the humans to halt the logging. I was amazed and delighted to find so many mortals willing to expend their time, energy, and wealth to protect the forest from the few greedy men in charge of the operation.

"I helped as much as I could and did a great deal of public speaking and attended many incredibly long-winded and sometimes purposeless hearings before various members of the ruling parties, posing as an environmental geophysicist. Minya'dar played the part of an atmospheric scientist. He has a couple of excellent papers out; remind me and I shall send you copies.

"It took several years but it was worth the effort. The entire remaining tract of land that was once my home is now an area protected by the Laws of their government. Of course, such things are ephemeral and the Wood Elves maintain close watch over the forest, just to make sure nothing changes."

"That is good news!" Erestor reached for and squeezed the archer's hand. If he was surprised to learn of the former King's double life, he kept that to himself. "Is that when you and Oropher became close?"

"Nay, we have been mutually devoted since my landing at Eldamar. No one else from the family would take me in because of Gimli. Well, that was the excuse put forward; really, the bad feelings between me and my father started long before I ever met the dwarf. When I came here, he offered me a place at his side once more, but the price was unacceptable to me and I had to decline.

"Minya'dar learned of it and was upset over the whole idea of his grandson having to earn the right to claim ties to our family. He tried to set things straight, but Hiren Adar would not listen. Really, it was hopeless, for if he would never listen to my Naneth why should he listen to his father? Minya'dar welcomed both Gimli and me graciously, and between his home and Galadriel's, we were never without comfort."

"I am sorry; I did not know it was that bad," Erestor murmured, truly surprised over the depth of the break between Thranduil and his youngest child. He had known there was friction between them but had not thought the archer would be cut off from the rest of his family over it.

"That is all right; we have all agreed to keep the whole unpleasant business as quiet as possible, and Gimli was willing to be the focal point of the dissension for my sake. Perhaps I shall tell you the entire story someday, yet it is too long to begin it now, nor do I have the heart for it," Legolas said sombrely.

"Nay, do not trouble yourself, for you have had enough to contend with over recent days without recalling the strife of the past for my benefit." Erestor squeezed Legolas' hand and smiled warmly, pleased to feel and see the same in response. Still, his curiosity would not be silenced. "What was the second wager the Vanyar made concerning you?"

"Ai! The vile thieves!" Legolas' visage once more became livid with outraged shame. "It was the same group, of course, and I have such an abiding hatred for these elves now that I might easily become a kinslayer to rid the world of such dark and twisted minds! They stole Gimli's effects from my home and held them hostage, demanding my participation.

"They hid each of his three axes in different cities on separate continents within the Severed Realms. The dwarf's private journal they held for ransom, threatening to publish my dearest friend's most private thoughts for all to see and mock, if I refused to play their game. The terms for having the axes returned to me were nearly identical to those proposed for the previous escapade. To get the journal back, regardless of my success or failure in securing the weapons, I would have to submit to one week of whoring for them.

"Of course, these events are fairly recent, you understand, and Gimli had been buried over one-hundred years. They would not have dared otherwise, for Gimli would not hesitate to go immediately to Galadriel, calling their bluff. He would just have told them to go ahead and publish it all as he was not about to be shamed by the workings of his own brain, no matter who should know them. I am not so, however, and they knew I could not bear to have these things made public, especially since I am the subject of so many of the entries."

"As before, our resourceful friend stymied their indecent sport and avoided the carnal servitude they desired," the Maia appended. "He located the journal first, breaking into an impossibly complex vault considered absolutely impervious to anyone but its creator, and thus stumbled on the plans surrounding the portal and the desire for enslavement of the Second-born. He brought the documents straight to me, to my eternal gratitude. That was when Oropher and I decided we must initiate Legolas into IMF. He has become one of our top agents, naturally." He spoke with obvious pride and respect, which did much to lift the Wood Elf's dejected mood.

"I only found one axe, though," Legolas complained.

"And that brings us to the present once more," the wizard continued. "We learned of a second effort to produce a working prototype of the dimensional gateway and sent Legolas and his IM team into the Severed Realms to destroy the machine, any written or electronically stored specifications, and all research data pertaining to its creation."

"Wait, I thought Legolas said it is not like a physical door or wall," Erestor was fast becoming confused again.

"True, we have no need of a mechanical machine, because we are employing the natural forces available to us through the fermi surface interactions of all those nano-scale dynamos you do not wish to discuss. The humans have an equally difficult time getting their minds around such a notion, and they really love to make intricate and often dangerous machines that do the same thing but consume vast amounts of the standard sources of energy." Legolas smiled a sad little smile. It was really difficult, sometimes, trying to communicate with other people.

"Ah yes, the nano-dynamos made of water," Erestor repeated as he nodded his head, not comprehending it in the least.

"Exactly so," agreed Olórin. "Thus, the scientists working on the project were to be given a rather strong dousing in a certain enchanted body of water, hindering their recollection and reproduction of the theories and models governing the portal's workings. That tends to set their efforts back considerably."

"Do you mean to say that after all this time the old Enchanted River still exists and still renders loss of memory to any submerged in its depths?" Erestor could not help interrupting, astonished this might be possible, so long after the time of the elves had ended.

"Nay, Thranduil and Celeborn lifted the spell after the fall of Sauron. However, anyone with the right knowledge can place such an enchantment upon any body of water. I usually just fill up the bathtub and ask them to get in. Has not failed yet, and afterwards you just pull the plug and it all drains away into the sewers," said Legolas with a shrug.

"What, you tell them to go take a bath and they just do so? Do they never demand to know what you are doing in their homes in the first place?"

"Nay, they invite me in. I just have a way with people," Legolas shrugged again as a slight rise in colour stained his cheeks and he flicked a contritely embarrassed sidelong look at his long-cherished crush.

Erestor could guess what that way might be and a powerful surge of jealousy raced through every blood vessel, capillary and nerve of his body. He refrained from comment, however, recalling how badly things had gone on this particular jaunt into the Severed Realms.

"Something went wrong this time, and that is what I need you to tell me about now, Legolas," the Maia quietly mimicked the Noldo's thoughts.

"Aye, terribly wrong. As I said, there was another IM team there, and the counter-agent is none other than Lady Celebrian." spoke the silvan.

"What?" Erestor rocketed from his place at the woodland warrior's side in shocked dismay. "You must be mistaken! I have known Celebrian since she was a mere elfling; there is not a malicious bone in her body!"

"I did not say she is malicious! However, she has been convinced by one of the Maiar involved that I am on the wrong side. She does not know how much Ringë wants me to suffer. He, of course, is among the principles who enjoy playing so freely with my life and wagering for my body. I am certain Celebrian knows nothing about that." Legolas assured the incensed Noldo fervently.

"That is most disturbing," Mithrandir sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily, feeling the headache returning. "And I am glad my foresight warned me not to take you to Elrond. We are back to being short on time once more, for I am certain she is there and will inform her cohorts of your escape."

"Nay, if I recall correctly, she is occupied in the gardens of Lorien with Estë and shall be away several months," corrected Erestor.

"That is her cover, Erestor," sighed Legolas. "I am sure if you check you will discover she arrived home yesterday or the day before that."

"Yes, we cannot count on her silence; nonetheless, her involvement may prove beneficial," Olórin had a calculating expression in his penetrating black eyes. "What of the plans, were you able to destroy them?"

"There were none; it was all a ruse. The location we obtained, and at such a high price in human life and elven blood that I did not doubt its verity, was incorrect. Ringë devised the entire scenario for the purpose of trapping me and my cohorts. This would expose my activities to the public at large here in Aman, thanks to Celebrian and her counter-IM team, forcing me to face Manwë's judgement. The Vanyarin gamers want to see me condemned and confined to Lorien or Mandos to undergo some sort of treatment designed to cure me of such destructive and rebellious outbursts.

"However, in his desire to increase the level of my torment, and because he never planned for me to actually escape his clutches, Ringë did reveal that an important breakthrough has occurred. The findings of several experiments carried out independently at two separate universities in the United States, California Institute of Technology and the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, are now in his possession. The entire body of work has been collected and suppressed from publication. Ringë has them locked away in two places: his private vault and a safety deposit box in the main branch of one of the most highly respected and well guarded financial institutions in that nation, located on the island of Manhattan off the eastern coast of North America."

"What of the scientists involved? Where do they stand in this mess?" queried the wizard.

"As always, there is a split on either side. Some just want to understand and are intrigued by the possibility the portal represents, others want to profit from it. They are currently not in any harm, but I suspect that will change rather quickly for those unwilling to join forces with Ringë."

"How would any human find such a proposition appealing? Ringë does not strike me as the persuasive sort and his outward form is quite frightening. Surely these people can sense the danger he represents," Erestor stated, forgetting how readily he had fallen into agreement with the dreadful sea spirit.

"Fear and power are strong motivators," Legolas said, shuddering. "Besides, Ringë only assumes that particular outward design for my benefit. It was purely accidental that you were there to witness it. To everyone else, he appears as any normal human male of twenty-five. It is a false representation and the one you saw is true. He is brutal and sadistic; the best a human can hope for, should one oppose him, is death. 

"When I realised it was a trap, I tried to get my people out and failed. It was cleverly done and I was shocked by the identity of the counter-agent. Everything was arranged to make us believe we were in control of the situation, and it was only Celebrian's presence that gave the plot away. She went against orders to reveal herself, hoping to convince us to surrender quietly.

"Of course, she thought I was the renegade and told me to accept my capture in order to prevent any loss of life. She did not know Ringë had already had my human confederates murdered and was planning to torture me and my elven comrades just for the pleasure of it. We did not have any information that would be useful to him, you see, for we had come to seek that which he already possesses."

"She just left you in that fiend's hands?" Erestor was heart broken to hear of the genteel Lady's involvement.

"Aye, she thinks I am to be censured for interfering in the affairs of men, knowing nothing about the Vanyar's gaming and Ringë's cruelty. IMF has many divisions and no one knows all the missions underway at any given time, except the director."

"Who is that?"

"Thingol, of course! And Melian. Without her assistance, and Mithrandir's, we would have little support among the Valar. We can depend on the aid of Tulkas, Oromë, and Yavanna. As it is, none of them can acknowledge our activity without exposing our goals to Manwë. Some agents think he knows but stays out of it. Personally, I agree; he would not care even if he did know."

"Legolas! That is highly inappropriate!" admonished Mithrandir, feeling the need to defend his mentor for loyalty's sake.

"I am sorry, Mithrandir, but it is the truth. He and Varda never took much notice of what was happening on Middle-earth even when the elves were there. After the War of Wrath, no more was seen of the Powers among the lands of Arda. Not until five Istari showed up late in the Third Age, that is, and please excuse my bluntness and omit yourself, but what did the Istari actually accomplish? Four Hobbits, a pitifully small handful of assorted humans, one dwarf, one wizard, and three elves had to deal with it. What makes you think Manwë would change his ways now? Nay, he does not consider that humans can gain sufficient knowledge to force through the barrier, nor does Ulmo.

"And, Ossë and Ringë play upon Ulmo's fury over the humans' defilement of his oceans and rivers. He tends to look the other way if those two convince him they are acting to prevent further abuses upon the waters, no matter how unsavoury their proposals are. He goes less and less beyond the boundary, trusting his lieutenants to preserve the living things in the seas and stop the poisonous water from reaching Aman's shores.

"It has not occurred to him that constant immersion within those polluted waters, unappreciated, virtually abandoned, struggling to salvage the environment only to be censured for failing to rectify the harm the humans cause, has rather turned those Ainur into resentful adversaries of the Valar. Their contention, and Ossë's justification, is that humans should be removed from stewardship, put under their control, reduced to the status of kept pets, no longer autonomous.

"I, too, feel the humans have failed in their duty and exploited the magnificent gifts provided by Ulmo, Yavanna, and Aulë. Still I would not want to make them into slaves because of it. In fact, I feel the continuous interfering by the Vanyar has precipitated many of the current problems. Left to mature naturally, the humans would learn how to care for their world or simply die out. Yet I have no wish for them to become extinct either, for there are many worthy spirits among them, even now.

"I would prefer to try and educate them, teach them about the long history of living things that preceded their ascension to mastery, and show them that they are not alone. I do not want them to discover the Undying Lands and invade us, but neither do I wish for them to remain ignorant of our existence. It will become known soon enough, by our reckoning, for the mortals are persistent in seeking answers to mysteries. The only way to stop their technological advancement is to destroy the current civilisation. The Vanyar have done it before, but at this time will not do so for they wish to enjoy the entertainment the impending cataclysm promises too provide."

Upon finishing this long oration Legolas lapsed into melancholy silence, waiting to hear Mithrandir's rebuttal. But the wizard remained silent and this was perhaps more indicative of the silvan's eloquence than any audible agreement would be.

Erestor was still trying to process all the information and found it all an unbearable assault upon his vision of reality. He had never considered the High Elves and the Istari susceptible to such warped and wayward moral lapses, at least not since the defeat of Sauron. Yet this barbaric form of sport was as near to evil as anything he had ever observed in his numerous years of life, and he was sorrowful to know that Melkor's influence had not been undone after all, but remained an ever-evolving virus that defied eradication.

TBC

 


	9. Chapter 9

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Nine: Suddenly in Love

Hîr o Meril Thaifn (The Lord of Rose Pillars) stared out into the grounds of his seaside estate, felt the shining warmth of the early morning sunlight, scented the faint cast of brine on the pale sigh of a breeze issuing out of the south east. He listened to the omnipresent, soothing undertone of the ocean's mighty heart thrumming at the shoreline. He could discern no tension in the wildlife residing on his property, no ominous subconscious stress stirred beneath his thoughts. As always, the environment presented only peaceful harmony among the many varied components of the realm of the Valar. Everything was as it should be, as he expected it to be and he wondered that all these signs of the natural world and his own faculties of observation could so easily fail to document the reality. Whatever perception of Valinor Erestor might harbour, it certainly did not include the reprehensible conduct and designs among the High Elves and the Maiar described by Legolas and Mithrandir.  
   
"What do we do now?" Erestor finally asked, still holding onto Legolas' fingers and gently stroking the ridge of knuckles with his thumb. The whole situation seemed much too large, much to complex, and much to dangerous for the three of them to do anything about. The idea that Legolas had been involved, and for the most part acting alone, in this effort to halt the Vanyarin elves' plotting and scheming sent shivers down his spine. His stomach squeezed in appalled repudiation as he carefully moved aside the loose blue robe and stared at the black and blue bruising all over the Wood Elf's torso, ample evidence of just how hazardous the job could be. Very carefully he touched on the bandaged side and looked up to find Legolas' deep blue eyes watching him. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, truly. I will be fine in a day or so," Legolas assured, smiling because it made him feel absolutely grand for Erestor to care so much, regardless that he was stiff and weak and ached in nearly every part of his body.

"We must get those plans and whatever breakthrough has come to pass," Mithrandir answered the seneschal bluntly. "I do not want to send Legolas back in alone, but it is clear this must be a covert mission, hidden even from my normal IMF cronies."

"NAY!" both elves shouted at once.

"You cannot send Legolas back! He has not even begun to recover from the last catastrophe," Erestor elaborated.

"That is not the point at all," Legolas shook his head. "Mithrandir, I know what you are thinking and the answer is no."

"I volunteer. Whatever it is, no one will suspect I am mixed up in it. Just tell me what I have to do," Erestor gallantly proposed.

"Absolutely not!" fumed Legolas. "You have never been through the portal, you have no contacts there, no safe place to go to, no comprehension of what life is like in the Severed Realms these days, or even how to locate and travel to the various places you need to find."

"Neither did you when first you went back, correct?" challenged the Lord of Rose Pillars.

"That was different," grumbled Legolas impatiently. "I had a very personal stake in that endeavour, on many counts."

"So have I," Erestor explained kindly and Legolas' hopes soared.

"I am not going to send Erestor through by himself, Legolas," Mithrandir explained. "Neither will I make you undertake this task without aid. You shall go together."

"Mithrandir, he is not well enough." "No. I will not permit such a risk to my Erestor…I mean Lord Erestor…uh…Erestor, my host." Both elves tried simultaneously to dissuade the Istar then turned to one another, Erestor in confusion and Legolas a mixture of aggravation and abashed shyness.

"I assure you I am fine, Erestor," the archer insisted, trying to resume his usual air of arrogant over-confidence.

"And I am more than capable of undertaking this quest. I was a seasoned warrior an Age before your father was conceived," remarked the Lord of Rose Pillars in his typically scathing tone of dismissive scorn and Legolas' hopes plummeted.

"It will take a couple of days to prepare and bring Erestor up to speed on the situation." Olórin continued without bothering to acknowledge the protests or the sniping. "That cannot be done here, however. You shall have to remove to Oropher's lands. For now, spend the day recuperating, Legolas, and allow Erestor to show you everything there is to see in this magnificent estate. A swim in the ocean would be beneficial to you wounds, also.

"Erestor, you must permit Legolas to teach you all he can regarding the changes that have come to pass in Arda since the Forth Age. He can show you some of the gadgets and gizmos he so loves to play with. Take good care not to leave Legolas alone. I do not want us to be overly complacent regarding Ringë's ability to learn whence I have taken him. The water wizard will be most upset once he gets free and will be seeking our brave Wood Elf. I am sad to say he will likely arrive here first, for all the reasons we have already discussed. You will have to tell Dammand."

"Eru's arse!" Erestor had not thought of his family becoming entangled in this mess. "Is he in danger? Surely the Maia would not threaten my Adar in our own home?"

"I would put nothing beyond his twisted and blackened heart," warned Legolas. "It might be best if your father went visiting some relatives or friends for a time."

"What is that you say? Did you speak my name, Mithrandir?" the wily twice-born warrior spoke from the doorway to the sitting room and everyone save Legolas startled.

"Ada! I have asked you repeatedly not to sneak about like that. And eavesdropping on private conversations is terrible manners," Erestor upbraided his sire testily.

"I was not sneaking, my oh so proper and lordly son, nor eavesdropping." Dammand shrugged off his second-born's admonishment. "I merely came out here to see how Legolas is doing and you were all talking quite plainly, out in the open I might add, so I had no reason to think the conversation was confidential. Besides, how else would I ever find out what you are up to if I did not sneak up and just happen, quite unintentionally I must stress, to overhear you. Legolas knew I was here anyway, did you not pen neth?"

"I did," admitted Legolas with a diffident smile.

"He is so grand nowadays, is he not?" Dammand dragged a chair closer to the chaise and addressed Legolas as he sat, jerking his thumb in Erestor's direction. "There was a time when he was a rough and ready soldier, just like his old sire. That was long ago but he is a warrior still, gladethel dithen. (little Wood Elf) Do not fear for him in this endeavour; you will find Erestor quite capable and skilled in a tight spot." The elder elf quirked one eyebrow and gave the fastest flash of a wink ever seen, overlaying the compliment with an entirely different meaning altogether.

Legolas' smile grew warm and laughter danced in his eyes, gladdened to know that Erestor's father was not only fully apprised of his interest in the Lord of the manor but approved the idea of a match between them. The Wood Elf had been unsure what to expect, for while he knew Dammand was usually in residence at Meril Thaifn, as he was knowledgeable concerning most aspects of his beloved seneschal's life, he had not been able to determine what the old general's feelings were regarding same-sex couples. Most of Legolas' intelligence on Erestor was gleaned from Tulus and the twins, and none of them had been able to draw Dammand out on the topic.

"Thank you, Adar. I think." Erestor was a little red-faced, not sure if anyone else had picked up on that subudition or if was just him, seeing as he already had his mind partially on the subject. Since he had pulled back Legolas' silken robe, the thin, green pyjamas were revealed to be draped over the silvan warrior's long, rigid erection and full, tight testicles most invitingly. The archer's penis was erotically obscured, lying against his stomach like a log beneath a velvety coverlet of verdant moss, and a small wet spot neatly identified its pinnacle. Legolas did not seem bothered by this kind of exposure at all even though all three of his companions rested their eyes there occasionally. Erestor fought the urge to reach out and drag the garment back over his youthful guest's form, lost the battle, and hastily grabbed the loose ends of the silvan's robe, drawing them over the exposed chest and the hidden locus of everyone's salacious interest.

Legolas smiled indulgently, hopes back to soaring, when Erestor checked to see what he would make of this unasked for assistance.

"As for me, I may be ancient but I am fully capable of defending our home if it comes to that," added Dammand with set jaw and shoulders squared.

"I do not doubt you, Hîr Dammand, but this is not any foe you would be accustomed to facing. Ringë is foul beyond words and has no scruples. He has completely lost whatever notion of respect for others' lives and welfare he once possessed," Legolas cautioned in urgent tones and looked to Mithrandir to confirm his assessment.

"Too true," the wizard nodded sadly. "Dammand, he can command the very water in your flesh and draw it from you if he wishes. A most unpleasant death. It would be best if the entire household relocated until all this is over."

"What?" Erestor leaped up from his place at Legolas side. "This is horrible! How does one fight such an enemy?"

"With another Maia, of course," Dammand said matter-of-factly quite as if he had faced off against renegade wizards frequently in the past, which he had during the sack of Gondolin. "Due to your naneth's extensive and lengthy involvement in the gardens of Lorien, I have become acquainted with one or two of the Valarindi. Mairo is a good friend of mine."

Now it was amusing to Legolas to note the subtle softening in the old warrior's eyes that was simultaneously matched by a bright spark of lecherous lust deep in the heart of the dark, fathomless orbs. He could not suppress a small laugh and looked to Erestor to share his knowing smile, an expression that clearly stated 'eredh útuia hae od orn' (the seed does not sprout far from the tree), for Mairo was the son of Oromë and Vána. It was obvious to him that Dammand was indeed adept at sneaking and kept his private life so well-guarded it seemed to most that he had none at all.  

It certainly was not apparent to his son. Erestor was more than agitated by the implications of this previously unmentioned friendship and glared from his father to his guest with equal grimness. "And Mairo will simply appear at your bidding and agree to defend my home and family against one of his own race? I do not believe you."

"Well actually, ion, he has just arrived a few minutes ago and is in the main parlour. I was not expecting you back quite so soon, you see, and was hoping for a bit of company during your absence," Dammand smiled serenely into his son's flustered countenance. "That was my second purpose in seeking you out, to let you know I have company."

"Company? What?" Erestor was not ready to deal with this. His adar could not be keeping 'company' with a male Istar in the sense the elder elf's manner implied. He was not reassured at all when Dammand smiled and patted him on the arm consolingly.

"That is most promising," Mithrandir was relieved and cautiously optimistic. "I do not know if he is aware of the unsavoury dealings of the Vanyar and their Istari cohorts, but Mairo is true-hearted and will not permit any innocents to come to harm in his presence. Dammand, I suggest you and I go explain the situation to him and enlist his aid. Erestor, see to Legolas. We shall all convene at noon for the meal and consolidate our plans." With that the wizard extinguished his pipe, knocked out the ashes on the flagstones, and rose form his chair. Dammand joined him as he strode back into the sitting room and on into the main body of the house, leaving the love-sick elves to themselves.

"He cannot mean what I think he means," Erestor mumbled to himself. "He and Nana have been committed to one another for more time than either one even bothers to keep track of anymore. Ada does not find males sexually appealing."

"Well he finds me interesting enough," Legolas said softly.

"That is hardly proof; who does not find you alluring?" Erestor's eyes swept the lithe body stretched out before him appreciatively.

Legolas smiled at that and shifted his hips as if needing to find a more comfortable position, which was partly true for the pressure of his weight upon his welt-covered back was painful. He sighed out a low moan while resting his hand over the bandaged puncture wound, thus managing to push back the robe and expose his left nipple, which lifted up nice and tight in the cool sea breeze. He gazed up at Erestor from beneath his golden lashes, permitting his eyes to travel the entire length of the long, lean, covered body before returning his attention to the Noldo Lord's face. Erestor's sight was just where he hoped it would be, watching that dark damp stain as his cock twitched under it. The Wood Elf caught his lower lip delicately under his teeth a second or two, just enough time to leave it very red and very wet, and shivered out another deep sigh. The sound drew the noble elf's attention first to the quivering node rising and falling with each breath and then back to Legolas' face.

"I am glad they have left us. All that talk is too depressing by far. Will you do as Mithrandir suggested and show me everything your fine estate has to offer?" Another sweeping glance over his host's virile physique accompanied the seductively couched query as Legolas' hand drifted down and casually burrowed underneath the pyjamas. On the chaise, his thighs parted.

Erestor dropped back to the edge of the seat, letting his robe go so that he could brace his body with one hand and still have the other free to explore. He took hold of the waist of those pyjamas and tugged them back, revealing the silvan's skilled, slow masturbation. Unable to resist, he bent low and tasted the pointed tip protruding from the enveloping fingers, jerking the pants down more as Legolas shifted and shimmied to get free of them. Erestor bestowed a nearly constant barrage of licks and kisses to the archer's cock during this process.

A trilling cry broke form Legolas at this tantalising touch and so Erestor slid his tongue firmly down against the glans right atop the tiny orifice. Beneath him, the silvan warrior bucked hard off the seat, another shout of tense expectancy escaping his lungs. Before Erestor could do anything more, a tight fist gripped his erection and started stroking him, the movement perfectly synchronised to the stimulation Legolas lavished on himself. Erestor sat up a little to better watch the archer work.

"Ai, Erestor, you are beautiful," whispered Legolas, breathless, plying both distended cocks with equal force, eyes transfixed by the Noldo's tall proud column of flesh in his hand. "You will fill me well and truly beyond my dreams." He closed his eyes a moment and gasped when a hot tongue lapped against his nipple. "Tell me that you want me, have always wanted me," he pleaded quietly and dared to look at the dark head where it was poised above his chest.

Erestor was staring at him in lascivious longing, parted lips hovering over the slickened morsel of sensitive skin. "I want you," the whispered words gusted breathlessly over the tempting titbit making it lift and pucker even more.

Legolas arched his back with a cry, shoving the sensitised node back into the open mouth, and shook when his lover practically devoured him in response, sucking and licking and biting and pulling.

Erestor let go in order to take the other nipple, capturing it with his teeth and tugging, but he felt Legolas flinch beneath him as a sharp abbreviated wail pierced the air. There was no mistaking that sound for pleasure. The Noldo lord relinquished the peaked bud instantly and straightened on the chair, finding the silvan was trembling and avoided his eyes. All movement on their solids shafts had ceased. Looking down on the heaving chest again, Erestor could not resist bending closer to kiss the sore nipple, very gently this time for he could see now the fading bite marks left by Ringë's sharp teeth, and its twin before turning Legolas' face toward him with his fingertips.

"You are tender there," he said and searched the frightened eyes.

The stubborn chin dipped slightly in assent and then quivered as the archer fought to control his emotions, blue gaze awash in gathering tears. "He…hurt me." The voice uttering these simple words was small and subdued, packed with confused pain and despair and shame.

Suddenly Legolas could not bear to have Erestor look at him and released his hold on the massive penis in order to try and get up and away. He was prevented from escaping when strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. He found himself captive against the Noldo's firm, warm chest as the former seneschal somehow lifted him and rearranged their positions so that Legolas was astride his lap. He could feel the strong heart beating right beneath his and their subsiding erections pressed side by side between them. Legolas found he had neither wish nor will to fight against the contact and threaded his arms through the tangled ebony hair, clinging tight to Erestor's neck as he permitted his love to soothe him.

"Nay, be still, be at peace," Erestor whispered, pressing kisses against the archer's shoulder and neck, petting his hair and caressing his skin from the base of his scull all the way down his spine and over the softer curve of the supple arse. "I want you, have wanted you always. I am going to claim you, Legolas, but not in the shadow of such abuses. We need not hurry; I would have you healed and feel no pain with me, agreed?"

Legolas nodded mutely and squeezed harder as Erestor slowly rocked him. He agreed; he always agreed. How could he defy Erestor when at last he was in the Noldo's arms, living the fantasy he had cherished and embellished over so many years of hidden longing?  _Almost living it._  In his heart, however, a sharp pang of fear and regret seized him, for there might be an uglier reason his long-held crush denied him now. The archer's reputation was scandalising at best and mayhap Erestor did not want to follow after such a lengthy string of lovers. Perhaps he even believed Legolas at fault for the disastrous deaths resulting from this latest encounter with Ringë. The possibility that Erestor might think, as the twins did, that he was the sea-spirit's kept pet made him shudder.  

Legolas stifled the tears that threatened as he considered these notions, clinging to Erestor as if the elf might vanish, naught but an ephemeral dream after all. He did not want the tender attention to end, revelling in the compression of soft lips and the inquisitive yet comforting touch of fingers and smoothing palms slowly working over every centimetre of his back. The steady beat of the Noldo's heart thrummed against his ribs and matched his pulse's rhythm.  _That is true enough; best to learn the rest._  He relaxed his strangle hold and sighed, snuggling up closer. "You have wanted me before?" he dared to ask, face pressed under the vintner's ear lobe, still not able to bring himself to meet Erestor's gaze.

"I suppose it is true," the former seneschal answered as if realising this for the first time as he spoke the words. "You were just never really accessible to me in the way you were to others."

"You thought I was promiscuous and a dwarf's whore," Legolas did not bother to try and hide his bitterness as his frame stiffened up in Erestor's hold. "It was not like that, not ever."

"I know it was not so," assured Erestor fervently, "but it seemed thus at the time, before I knew you. From a distance, Legolas, you presented as a most horridly spoiled playboy and a complete rogue. And The List certainly did nothing to discourage that perception. I had no idea you even remarked my existence save the occasional times when we were both in Elrond's house."

"I am not blaming you; that is why I never made my desires known. There was no time when we still lived in Middle-earth what with the Ring Quest and then you left so quickly. Once I finally got here, Ada started that callous rumour about Gimli and me. Then all this business with the Vanyar and Ringë happened and it was decided the aspect of sexual…deviance could be developed into a successful cover. No one took me seriously anymore, especially you. I never had a chance." The archer almost sobbed but managed to swallow back his sorrow once more.

Legolas was close to breaking but Erestor had to smile at his disconsolate sounding voice and patted the rigid back softly. "Ah, foolish one, you are here in my arms; is that not enough? Let the past remain there." He felt Legolas intake a shaky breath and then he finally stirred, lifting his head to peer tentatively into the noble Lord's reassuring smile.

"There has only ever been the twins, by my choice," he said haltingly, colouring a bit and lowering his eyes. "All the others were just made up. I swear. I may have teased…have often played the tease…but nothing more than that."

"Legolas, you owe me no explanation of your history." Erestor bent his head to meet the crestfallen Wood Elf's averted gaze, surprised by these unasked for justifications. With his lap occupied by the striking ellon, it was hard for the former seneschal to recall the scornful disapproval with which he had always favoured Thranduil's youngest over the centuries.

"But I want you to understand. It's important, Erestor," Legolas at last looked at him, imploring him to comprehend his meaning. "Do you believe me?"

"I do," Erestor hesitated slightly, not quite sure he truly did. It seemed highly unlikely that so beautiful an elf would have remained exclusive to one set of lovers, especially given the notoriety that followed Legolas' every action. Yet he could see too that the silvan needed him to confirm this notion, however far-fetched it seemed from his perspective. The vintner smiled encouragement. "Elladan and Elrohir were your first and only. Ringë was never your lover. Was that a ploy worked out among the clever captains of IMF?" Legolas' blue eyes were hugely round as he nodded silently in answer to this and Erestor was jolted out of his complacency, realising this part, at least, was the absolute truth.

"Of course they knew of his part in the wagers designed to win you for his own use. They thought you could be a tease and cajole your way into learning the vile creature's secrets." Erestor was incensed with these un-named leaders who had convinced Legolas to act out such a dangerous game.

"I believed I could handle it well enough," Legolas interjected. "I had successfully done so with others, although they were not Maiar. Yet Ringë had never resorted to violence of that sort, at least not that we were aware of. No one thought he would sink to the level of Sauron, cold-bloodedly committing murder, torture,…"

"And rape. I know that you were forced; I saw him actively assaulting you." Erestor gently stroked the worried brow and the refined cheek. "Do not fear that I will ever condemn you for what happened to you and those who were with you." Erestor spoke these words without a hint of reservation, for he meant them absolutely.

Finally the tension left Legolas' body as he heard this statement. He settled his cheek back against the Noldo's shoulder and let himself pretend for a few minutes that they had nothing else to do but sit and enjoy being together. No mission, no portal, no pending break-in to orchestrate, just two lovers cherishing a peaceful morning in each other's arms.

For his part, Erestor was deeply moved by the Wood Elf's desire to clear his name and make himself worthy to be loved and wanted. He realised just how difficult bearing up under so much public discredit must have been for Legolas all these many long centuries since his brief span of acclaim after the Ring Wars. Indeed, just a few short hours ago Erestor had believed the rumours and accepted Ringë's lies for truth. 

In this vulnerable state Legolas' guard was down, the mirage of the worldly, debonaire socialite dissipated and his hidden core was revealed: an insecure, self-effacing, and lonely elf. Erestor grew warm inside, feeling the naked soul rest easy in his embrace, trusting and contented at last. "Have you really longed for me so long as Elladan claims? Even before the Quest?" He felt Legolas smile against his shoulder as the wiry arms hugged him closer.

"Aye, even before the Quest. You would not even speak to me then."  _Or utter more than 'mae govannen' and 'namarië' since._

"I am sorry for that, Legolas. What a haughty dolt I was!" Erestor felt his face grow hot with chagrin, for he had never thought Legolas worthy to get to know. It amazed him that the Wood Elf did not feel insulted and disdain him in kind. "Can you forgive me?"

"Consider it forgotten." Legolas agreed willingly, having overcome his hurt feelings over it the instant he heard the regretful timbre of Erestor's voice. Still, he sighed a bit dejectedly. "I suppose we should do as Mithrandir says and start teaching you the basics of undercover espionage."

"You do not sound too enthusiastic."

"I have neither desire nor will to think about all of that just now. I want to make believe that we are like any other lovers, focused only on each other."

Erestor caught his breath and gently pulled Legolas away from him to gaze intently into the fair features. He smiled and softly claimed the silvan's sensitive mouth for a slow sweet kiss. He was still smiling when he released those velvety lips and pressed his forehead against Legolas'. "I like that idea as well. Let it be so. We will not worry about the mission at least for the next few hours. How about that swim in the ocean? Tulus will pack up a cold lunch and we will skip the portentous noon meal, too."

Legolas shivered, shaking his head emphatically in the negative. "No. If it is all the same to you, I have no wish to get in the water just yet. Not even Mithrandir knows who Ringë's allies are on this side of the Sundering Sea. I will swim with you joyously once we are in my home. There is a lovely deep lake that has an underground connection to the Esgalduin in Neldoreth Hain. Show me the gardens and the vineyards instead." (New Neldoreth)  
    
"I would be pleased to do so," and Erestor smiled into those endless cerulean pools, thinking he would much rather swim about in them anyway. He stood, still holding Legolas tight against him and the silvan wrapped both of his long legs securely about the noble elf's waist. They engaged in a long, exploring kiss, Erestor cupping the archer's soft round arse in both hands, Legolas tangling his fingers through the vintner's lengthy black tresses. Their lips and tongues separated then sealed anew, deepening the osculation in the heat of unfulfilled desire, the lovers sharing a swift glance of joy between them.

Erestor let one finger slip lower, tentatively brushing across the concealed entrance to unbridled delight, and seductively plunged his tongue deeper into the hot and yearning mouth. Legolas sucked the thick muscle greedily and hummed out a lurid little whimper as a tremor ran down his spine. Erestor pushed the finger past the tightly cramped guarding ring and worked it in and out, imagining his cock enveloped by the wanton Wood Elf's body.

Legolas broke the kiss with a strangled cry and shifted frantically against the probing digit. "Caro den! Aniron den!" (Do it! I want it!) His face was contorted in open hunger and impatient craving, eyes searing Erestor's soul in fiery anticipation.

Erestor knew he could not deny this demand despite his earlier protests and seized the straining rear, lifting up and out as his lover braced upon his shoulders, letting his compressed erection free. Slowly he positioned the parted mounds over his weeping tip and eased Legolas down onto his iron hard rod of eager flesh. The first contact of the glans against the sealed entry made him jerk and wrung a soft cry from the silvan. Then the throbbing head forced through and Erestor growled out a feral grunt of satisfaction. He would lay claim to this elf; Legolas would know what it was to be taken utterly, filled with Erestor's shaft and laved with his white hot Noldorin seed.

The sensation was incredible; Legolas was trembling all over and gripped Erestor's shoulders so that his nails bit the skin. The silvan's taut body had no choice but to accept the massive intrusion as the force of gravity lowered him onto the solid organ. He groaned as he was breached, invaded, and stretched. "Ai! Ha taur! Ai, Erestor, daro!" (Ah! It is huge! Ah, Erestor, stop!) His head fell back, exposing his throat, and he sobbed, squirming helplessly against the penetrating penis, torn between wanting it out and urging it deeper.

Erestor could not have imagined how this sense of domination would blaze through him in a wild surge of lust and power. He craned his neck forward to reach the long ivory column and gently licked the fading blue marks there. The touch of his tongue against Legolas' skin raised a reedy wail from the silvan's lungs.  Erestor pivoted his hips and drove his cock hard against the encircling resistance and before he knew what he was even doing he was fucking the archer soundly. His excitement was so elevated that it did not take long for him to reach his peak and with a loud shout he pumped his essence deep into Legolas' core. Erestor's knees buckled and with a long moan he sat heavily on the chaise before collapsing flat on his back, Legolas sprawled atop him.  
      
"Valar!" He exhaled, lungs straining to gather essential air, and trailed his hands up the curved spine, gently brushing away the avalanche of golden locks that had cascaded over his face. Erestor carefully raised the bowed head and studied Legolas' features intently. There was no sign of discomfort or sorrow there and he smiled as he leaned up to kiss his lover. "That was amazing. Are you all right?"

"Aye," Legolas smiled shyly and extricated his arms from behind the Noldo's neck in order to push himself up from the chaise, for the position was awkward and caused the welts over his back to pull uncomfortably. He sighed and readjusted his knees so that he was more easily astride Erestor's hips, rocking forward a little in an attempt to push his hard penis against his lover's belly. Erestor was still partially inserted inside him, however, and he could not achieve any satisfying connection without disengaging. That he did not want.

"Oh!" It was not until this moment that Erestor realised Legolas was still rock-solid and needy, having found no release in their urgent and speedy coupling. "I am sorry! I should not have been so selfish. I should have waited, as I promised. I wanted our first time to be something special and now…"

"It was special…is special, for we are not done I hope." Legolas' eyes were all sparkly with mischievous glee and he wiggled his bottom against Erestor's groin.

Erestor grinned as heat flowed into his semi-soft organ anew. "I think I have just disproved your theory of dimensional convergence, love. We are both on the chaise in exactly the same place at the same time."

"Nay, you have proved my theory beyond doubt. I said dimensional convergence would force the two physical worlds to merge should both be in the same place at the same time. We are most definitely merged." Legolas rocked cautiously forward and then pressed back, encouraging the growing fullness expanding inside him. The feathery ends of his golden mane trailed lightly over Erestor's chest, highlighting the inviting mahogany points rising from the firm pectorals. He bent low to taste one and thrilled to hear the sigh of pleasure this attention elicited from his beloved. "I cannot believe I am here with you and we are joined thus," he whispered, breath ghosting over the erect nipples, and kissed them both again.

"Aye, this is real." Erestor ran his hands lovingly and possessively over the slender body impaled on his rapidly hardening flesh. He jerked his hips sharply, driving his cock into the sensitive internal gland and smirked over the cry this wrought from the golden elf's throat. "Does that not feel real enough for you?"

"Ai!" Legolas could manage no more and was trembling again. Quite suddenly one arm gave way as he tried to push up, hoping to resume the internal friction both so craved. His nose thumped into the Noldo's sternum and he yelped at the brief jab of pain. With a noise expressive of deep disgust over his weakened health, he relaxed his other arm as Erestor drew him protectively into a careful embrace.

"I think we need to alter our positions," Erestor suggested and did not wait for Legolas to reply, lifting the silvan off him carefully as he turned. The complaining whine from his new lover made him smile and he settled the archer on his back and spread the long, muscular legs apart, kneeling between them. The Lord of the manor took hold of the long pink pole at the crux of the parted limbs and worked it expertly, watching Legolas' every response with avid enjoyment.

"Saes!" Legolas gasped and met the steamy stare regarding him with such blatant hunger. He braced himself and lifted his legs, placing his calves solidly on the Noldo's shoulders, matching the heat of the devouring eyes. "Saes, I want you inside me when I come, Erestor." He knew his voice sounded pleading but he really did not care if it earned him his request. It did.

Erestor let go of the rigid cock to caress the legs draped across his shoulders, turning his head to kiss and lick the smooth skin. He reached down and took hold of the firm arse, simultaneously shifting forward as he lifted, thrusting fully inside in a single fluid movement that brought his balls flush against the sweaty skin with a soft, glorious smack as their bodes connected. His gaze never left the silvan's, relishing the way Legolas' eyelids fluttered shut and he bit his lip, head thrown back and spine arched, gripping the sides of the chaise so tightly his arms quaked. The Wood Elf was hot and wet with his seed; it oozed around his cock and this excited Erestor to heights of sexual craving he never even imagined existed. Once again he was pumping with vigourous delight without consciously making the decision to do so, grunting and groaning as he drove into the willing body writhing beneath him.

Legolas reached for his cock, determined to find his release along with his love this time, only to have his hand roughly jerked away from the aching flesh. His eyes flew open and he gasped at the feral expression upon Erestor's visage as the elf wrapped long elegant fingers tightly around his erection.

"Mine," Erestor growled, pumping in time with his potent thrusts, eyes afire with possessive lust.

It was more than Legolas could endure for not in his most vivid dreams of this moment had he foreseen such complete captivation, body, mind, heart and soul, by the elf he loved. "Erestor!" he shouted and nearly wept as he watched his semen spurt over the noble elf's fist.

A sound that could only be classified as a roar left the normally composed elder's lungs as he responded to the exquisite compression around his penis, emptying his testes in a swift flood of heated cream deep within the archer's body. A few lazy thrusts later he backed out of the slick channel and lowered Legolas' legs, kissing each knee between gulps for air. He chuckled smugly for Legolas was panting, a smile curling his ruby lips, too exhausted to move. Erestor took him around the waist and slid the boneless frame over to make room to lie beside the Wood Elf. He kissed the parted lips and the flushed cheeks, the sweat-sheened brow and an ear tip, smiling as this sent a shudder through Legolas' spent form.

Legolas sighed in contentment and shifted closer, burying his face under Erestor's jaw to kiss his neck, wrapping an arm across the broad shouldered elf in order to sink his fingers into the damp ebony strands. "That was wonderful," he whispered.

"Indeed." Erestor rested his cheek comfortably on the archer's head, ready for a short nap, smiling to think he would wake with this nearly-naked, compliant elf in his arms, eager and willing for sex. He was nearly asleep when the silvan spoke again.

"I wish we could stay here, just like this, always. No troubles or cares, just the two of us, happy to find ourselves suddenly in love." He placed another lick against the pulse in his beloved's throat.

Erestor's eyes opened and he was awake instantly.  _'Suddenly in love?'_  Surely he had heard wrong.  _We barely know one another._  "Legolas," he began, voice hedged in hesitant caution, pulling back from the clinging elf to look into the blue eyes. Erestor almost flinched, for it was clear Legolas had just realised he had perhaps said something he should not and regretted it.

The archer extricated himself immediately and sat up, turning his back and swinging his legs over the side of the chaise to hide his embarrassment and hurt. "Aye, I know. That is all a fantasy and we have an important job to do," he said in tightly clipped syllables, trying to hide his humiliation and sorrow in that condescending tone of his. He gathered the thin robe close about his body as he rose on unsteady feet. "I am going to bathe and find something to wear. We shall meet anon to begin your briefing on the Severed Realms." With that he tottered off to his room, calling for Galion.

Erestor sat up and stared at the place where Legolas had just slipped through the long glass window, knowing he should follow and try to reassure the elf, except he was uncertain if he could do so without granting the silvan false hope. He did not feel love. He felt protective and possessive, he felt a strong sexual attraction, he could even go so far as to say he liked Legolas. Love was something else entirely. Love would bind his soul to this wild and wanton woodland fey forever more, and the Lord of Rose Pillars did not think he was ready for that kind of commitment. Not, at any rate, to someone so unpredictable, undisciplined, and unconventional as was Legolas Thranduilion.

TBC

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


 

 

 

 

## Part Ten: Patched Hearts and Lonesome Spirits

 

From the journal of Gimli son of Gloín:  
 _Víressë 30th, loa 39, Fourth Age  
Annuminas, the Northern Palace of the Reunited Kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor_

**_Finally, everything is calm again. What a turmoil we have all been in! The Fellowship I mean. This has not dampened the festivities much yet we remaining members of the Nine are quite subdued and sombre._ **

**_I am not at all sure what to do about this. Often enough have I missed Gandalf and his counsel through the years, but never more than this day. Mahal, guide my actions, bestow wisdom to my thoughts and restraint to my tongue. Let me not say anything to make matters worse._ **

**_Lord Elladan has asked me to look after Legolas, saying he and his twin must away for Imladris soon and he will not join them. Legolas I mean. He must not return to Ithilien, according to the Peredhel, yet he cannot stay in Arnor either. Legolas refuses to journey with his brother to the Woodland Realm. That Wood Elf is too stubborn! I should have demanded he go to his people in Eryn Lasgalen but he is not himself and likely could not tolerate the strain of being in daily proximity to his father. I have grown mellow like sweet mead during these years of peace else I would have refused outright._ **

**_One of them should stay with him or another Elf, any Elf. I cannot give him what he needs. Elladan says otherwise, that what Legolas wants is a true friend. Are Elrond's sons not his friends? said I. To this remark the Elf Lord was silent a time, just staring at me, and then to my amaze he turned his head low in shame, saying they had not been as good friends should be, as I have been. Elladan got down on his knees and begged me to keep Legolas beside me! I was too shocked to refuse at the time, but now I wonder if I am up for it. Having Legolas as a hunting partner or a brother in arms is one thing, caring for him during this illness is another._ **

**_It all started at that blasted party. But nay, now that I think on it, the roots of this trouble must go back twenty years. It pains my heart to realise Legolas has been suffering all this time and said not one thing to me. Or to anyone else, apparently._ **

**_Bugger a Balrog why is he so secretive! I must get my thoughts in order if I am to be any help at all, and thus this journal entry will be lengthy indeed._ **

**_I have come to understand much of my unusual friend over the many years we have been comrades, and yet it is only today, just past the twentieth anniversary of the defeat of Sauron, that I have learned the truth behind his amiable, lighthearted flightiness so common to the younger elves._ **

**_Not that I could tell the difference at first between the Last Generation and the Ancient Ones; that required years of exposure to the tall, point-eared creatures along with Legolas' constant tutoring on names and histories. It is almost Hobbitish, his ability to recite the family pedigree of any silvan Elf we encounter and tell the stories of their folk through the Ages, right from the beginning of things at the Awakening to present days. At first, he would only tell me the tales of battles and strife, for he thought I might not appreciate the humour of some of the more whimsical anecdotes._ **

**_He was right. What is so funny about butterflies resting in Glorfindel's hair when he sleeps or Celeborn's addiction to sweet confections? What does it matter if Galion always wears gold on the third Tuesday of every sixth month? To a dwarf, there is nothing amusing in such foibles, they are merely eccentricities no doubt brought on by over indulgence in wine and merrymaking compounded by Ages of wars and affliction. Such concerns must wear upon the heart and mind, as I figure it, and their frivolous antics are necessary as a means of distraction. The magnitude of memory that must accompany such an existence as is granted unto elves is not lost upon my thoughts._ **

**_I did not expect Legolas to be any different than the rest of the breed. Maddening, I deemed it once, Legolas' habit of breaking into song for no good reason, saying the slant of the sun glinting on the water at dawn filled him with emotion too strong to contain within his heart. Ah! What a fool I have been, for today he looks as if he may never sing another tune and I am terrified._ **

**_And ashamed. How frequently I complained of and even mocked those times when he would state the need to 'observe nature' and wander off to sit among the branches of his beloved trees or lie amid the wild flowers blanketing a meadow, there to remain hours on end rapt in silent awe, appreciating the works of Yavanna. Equally common, he might simply say he had to go look upon a certain tree he had passed once a hundred years ago, to make sure it was all right, and walk off into the wilds, bow at his back and knife at his hip, to be seen no more for months on end. Was he suffering this even then? Is that what made him go away from his friends and kinfolk? Now I believe this is true. Stubborn, prideful Elf._ **

**_I thought nothing of this kind of behaviour; typical elvish nonsense, I would term it, shake my head, and go on about my work. My oh so important employment devoted to enriching my clan and beautifying our new home in Aglarond. I would still be hard at it when he wandered back into my life, wheedling me to leave off and follow him back to Ithilien or go for a visit to Minas Tirith. If I refused, often he would remain in Rohan, first to sulk and pout and bemoan my stubborn dedication. Next he would organise a grand party on some pretext or other (it is always somebody's Begetting Day Anniversary, so numerous are his relatives) and talk my kin into attending. He was always able to get on my cousins' good graces, mainly by buying lots of ale and mead with his father's gold, and before I could intervene a week-long celebration would be underway. So of course I would cease work and join in, letting the spoiled princeling have his way again._ **

**_Thus I expected Legolas to become practically giddy with delight over the prospect of a grand fête to mark the twenty years of peace, prosperity, and liberty suffusing the various regions of the world since Sauron's destruction. I fully anticipated some kind of bizarre aberrancy to mark his actions, would have bet money that the Wood Elf would not sleep once during the entire two weeks planned for the festivities, spending every minute dancing and singing and cavorting with his friends. Indeed, when he showed up at Aglarond with my invitation from Ellessar, playing the part of Royal Messenger, (which he thought was a 'grand joke on so many levels' for which an elvish understanding must be required for I still do not see how this is humorous) he was already in high spirits. We travelled together to Annuminas where the King and his entire family had established residence for a time, for the New Year was to be inaugurated at the northern palace._ **

**_The capital of the Northern Realm of Elessar never looked so magnificent! Of course, I and my people had a large part in the reconstruction, for the mighty city had been reduced to ruination by the numerous wars of the Third Age. Now she gleamed like a pearl and it seemed every parapet and tower, every window and doorway was festooned in banners and bedecked in the colours of the nations and peoples from across the lands of Arda. The humans were gathered in all their finery such that even the common folk looked noble and comely. There were delegates from the Shire and from Lindon, from Erin Lasgalen and Dale, from the Iron Mountains and Imladris. Even the Beornings attended and I seem to recall one old oak that looked suspiciously Entish. I meant to ask Legolas about it but never got around to that as events took a turning I did not foresee._ **

**_When we arrived, Ellessar and Lady Arwen stood within the courtyard of the palace greeting distinguished guests. How resplendent and regal they were, dressed in rich robes with bejewelled coronets upon their noble brows, yet the instant they spied me with the woodland fey in tow they threw protocol to the blazes and joined in the Elf's frolicsome antics with relish. In no time he had them singing and chasing amid the gardens like children, and I will forever cherish the joy within Eldarion's and the princesses' eyes, the astonished expressions frozen upon their faces to see their parents acting so carefree out in public. Merry and Pippin and Sam were already present along with their sizable families, and I had kinfolk along too. None of Legolas' relatives showed up in the first days but he assured me his elder brother and family planned to attend._ **

**_I thought Legolas would be shocked by the changes in his mortal friends, but if he was he hid it remarkably well. It did not fluster him to realise that Pippin and Merry were grandfathers and that Eldarion was a young man full grown, betrothed to be wed to a Lady, a princess from Belfalas. If he was sorrowed by greying hair and thickening waist-girths he never commented on it._ **

**_Of course there was a feast in the Great Hall where the Hobbits, Legolas and I were guests of honour, with a ball planned for afterward. That blasted archer could not keep to his seat nor did he eat more than a morsel during the banquet, forever arising and flitting around the room to speak with someone he either recognised or was curious to meet. I watched him, for there was something in his agitation that unsettled me, though I could not say what it was and attributed his restlessness to the heady wine and an empty stomach. The Hobbits noticed and set bets on the length of time he would sit before jumping up and traipsing off again._ **

**_Then I saw that Aragorn was watching him keenly also, and at last the King went to retrieve the roaming Elf during his latest foray from the main table. Elessar steered him back to the chair beside me, one hand on either shoulder, and plunked him firmly down. "Sit! They will be here, mellonen, fear not. They would not miss this celebration for it has been five years since last they visited Arwen and our children." He smiled warmly but Legolas was embarrassed for the scene drew a smattering of titters from the surrounding guests. Many realised who 'they' were, myself included, for the Queen's brothers had not yet arrived._ **

**_The Elf's face flushed and he got that stubborn tightening about his mouth and chin that so favoured his father. This is when Aragorn made a crucial error in judgement: he laughed and that encouraged the Hobbits to do the same. All but Pippin and his son Faramir. Now I look back, they knew something, had to have. Usually Pippin was first in whenever a jest on Legolas was pronounced. I wonder now if sometimes the Wood Elf sheltered in the Shire during his frequent wanderings._ **

**_"Do not sulk, princeling, for then you are too much Thranduil's petulant elfling and too little my courageous elven scout of old," quipped Aragorn and gave the Elf's shoulders a squeeze._ **

**_The good King realised his error immediately, for the gaze trained upon him from those clear blue eyes could have rendered granite into molten magma so hot was the temper behind it. Aragorn was never a man given to fear, yet he hastened back to his wife's side with greater speed than his regal station warranted._ **

**_As for Legolas, he said nothing, not even when Pippin tried to draw him out with a ridiculous story about how his little grandson Faramir II had adopted a warren of rabbits that invaded the vegetable garden, trying to make them into pets. The Elf did, however, become as pale as new cream and had to physically grab onto the edges of his seat with both hands in order to restrain himself from arising. He remained like that for the duration of the meal, rigidly perched in his chair, staring in seething silence into the candle light. When the dinner was ended and the guests adjourned to the ballroom, Legolas was not among the crowd. No one saw him the rest of the night, and while I was not pleased about it neither was I worried overly much._ **

**_The revelling went on long into the early hours of the morn and thus few among the mortals were up and about to see the sunrise. Even I was not and only the insistent rapping of knuckles on my door roused me from bed. My displeasure transformed to amazement when I beheld Eldarion on my threshold, wide-eyed and panicky, babbling about scandal and impropriety and shame upon his mother's name. I could make no sense of what the young Prince was trying to tell me and had all I could do to convince him to remain calm whilst I dressed so he could guide me to the scene of this 'travesty and affront to the nobility of Eärendil's House'. Why he had sought me out instead of another was made plain by his repeated mention of 'that Wood Elf' and 'your silvan friend', both descriptive phrases spoken in tones indicative of strong disfavour._ **

**_Now that was strange, for he had always got on well with Legolas and seemed to appreciate the woodland warrior's sprightly humour and boundless energy. Legolas visited Minas Tirith often and Eldarion had been apprenticed for archery instruction to Ithilien's elven ruler. Indeed, before the incident during the feast, the two had spent some time conversing as Arwen's eldest related several tales of recent doings in the King's court, for Legolas had been wandering again for many months prior to the invitation to the festivities. I held my questions back, however, waiting for my own assessment of this situation, as Eldarion led me through the castle and outside to the gardens surrounding the formal courtyard. We halted as he pointed, guiding my eye quite unnecessarily, for three elves were approaching slowly across the lawn: Elladan and Elrohir supporting Legolas between them._ **

**_"Nay, it was not thus that I came upon them," Eldarion was protesting loudly. "They were naked, the three of them, entangled together right here in the open. All of the guards saw what they were doing. This will be spread over the city by breakfast!"_ **

**_"Be silent!" snarled Elladan, eyes flashing dangerously as he trained them upon his nephew. "Estel's guards have seen worse and know how to hold their tongues, unlike some present."_ **

**_Indeed, the sight was not so terrible. It was clear enough the trio had but hastily thrown on their clothing for none wore shoes, their tunics were off and their shirts untied. The leggings at least were secure. In any other time I would have wondered at Eldarion's attitude, for one would imagine he was not unaware of the ways of elves, with half his ancestry arising among the First-born. And let me be frank, elves are not so different in this regard from other people. There are males and females among humans, dwarves, and Hobbits that likewise favour their own sex._ **

**_I had to surmise it was the youth's inexperience and perhaps an unexpected bodily response to the situation that made him so riled. Eldarion is but eighteen coronar's in age, and I think his elven heritage makes him mature less swiftly than other young men of his generation. That and the grandeur of the occasion and the numerous visitors from foreign lands, among which were his betrothed's family, mayhap made him so anxious over the elves' indiscreet use of the public grounds for trysting._ **

**_As for me, I had known Legolas and the twin Lords of Imladris were intimate since the time of the War, for they never left his side once the Grey Company joined us at the Paths of the Dead. I might have been relieved to see them together, for Legolas had clearly been longing for them the previous night. As it was, I found the sight disturbing for entirely different reasons. What was truly upsetting about the tableau was Legolas, for he was trembling and walked with his head low, clutching tightly to Elrohir as Elladan gripped him round the waist. In all the time I had known him, never had I beheld my friend in so stricken a condition and I was shocked speechless. When they were nearly abreast of us I found my voice at last. "Legolas! What ails you, lad?" I cried._ **

**_"Not so loud, Gimli," cautioned Elrohir kindly but firmly, for Legolas winced from the volume of my words. "It is the seasickness. We shall tend to him if you calm Eldarion."_ **

**_"You must make our excuses to Aragorn and Arwen," Elladan added, "for we need to get him back to Imladris. He will do better there amid the trees than here for it is too near the Sea; he can hear it."_ **

**_"Nay, not there, saes," Legolas' voice was barely audible but packed with panic nonetheless. Elladan placated him as they walked, promising not to make him go if he could not bear it._ **

**_"The seasickness? What is that to do with it? It is clear enough to me he is suffering from too much drink and wanton excess…" Eldarion's words were interrupted when Elladan wheeled on him and landed a stinging slap across his cheek._ **

**_"Do not dare to pass judgement on Legolas, Eldarion," he warned as the youth stepped back, hand against the bright red mark, eyes like an owl's they were so round. "What do you know of suffering, in any form?"_ **

**_"Aye, apologise to our beloved," demanded Elrohir, equally outraged. "If you wish to make a grievance over this then make it to us, for we are the instigators of the affair."_ **

**_Now I was not sure whether the Peredhel meant this particular incident or the trio's unusual on-and-off relationship as a whole. But Eldarion did not care about such subtleties and was made more angry by the challenge._ **

**_"So be it, for I do find you equally at fault. How could you shame Nana this way? She is your sister!" he shouted._ **

**_"Daro! Saes, alvaethol! (Stop! Please, no fighting!) Legolas cried out and I was alarmed to see him groan aloud and heave over, gripping his chest and struggling to breathe. Next he was retching on the grass, as vile and putrid a sputum as any I have ever been privy to, strongly smelling of sweet wine. He all but collapsed and indeed Elrohir swept him up into his arms and hastened his pace, carrying the moaning Elf toward the palace._ **

**_I was hurrying after, Eldarion at my heels, but Elladan leaped in our way and halted us. "Nay. We will tend to him. Legolas needs quiet rather than this abrasive attention. Gimli, if you will do as I ask we shall be in your debt. Gather his things and bring them along to our rooms, if you would be so kind. We are just down the hall from Aragorn's suite." He shot his nephew a deadly glare before speeding in his brother's trail._ **

**_I grabbed Eldarion before he could take another step. "Nay. We will honour your uncle's request. Let me add my own thoughts, young prince, for Legolas is my dear friend. How can you be so angry over this small indiscretion? It is obvious the Wood Elf is paying for whatever sin you think him guilty of committing. Would you ruin a friendship over such a paltry thing?"_ **

**_"You don't understand! He is not supposed to be so…so base! He is supposed to be pure, above all that kind of…stuff…and here he is putting on a show for anyone who might wander by, letting the twins do those obscene things to his body and…enjoying it!" Eldarion was close to tears himself and that is what made me realise the real problem. The youth was red-faced, short of breath, unreasonably angry and uncharacteristically judgemental. How we all had missed it I know not, but Eldarion was smitten with the Elf, probably had been nursing this secret crush for months only to have all hopes dashed when he came upon his idol in the throes of passion with his uncles. That being the case I decided to just get right to the point._ **

**_"Eldarion, it is you who does not understand. Legolas is an Elf not a spirit. A grown, male Elf in his prime with needs both emotional and physical. Long have he and your uncles favoured each other with fulfilment of those very needs. There is nothing obscene about it, though their choice of location was admittedly poor. Why shouldn't he know pleasure with them if all three are willing? I think you are so angry because you were not the one engaged in giving those attentions he so enjoyed."_ **

**_Now to my mind this was a very pretty speech for a dwarf. Legolas' influence, no doubt. My father would not have been so genteel with me if he had ever found me in a similar state of frustration and jealous outrage. He would have told me to stop making a fool of myself and take my troubles in hand, privately, until I found someone willing. 'No such thing as a flawless gem. Pick ye another for that one is already mounted and set.' So he would say to me. But Eldarion did not find my lecture enlightening for all its merit in well-chosen words._ **

**_His face got so dark a red I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel. He looked like he wanted to take a swing at me but was fighting the urge from fear, both for his safety and his self-respect I am certain. His grey eyes were all lit up with indignant affront and wounded pride, any trace of teary brightness driven out by having his secret discovered so easily._ **

**_"How dare you suggest such a thing! I have never desired to lie with another male. I am betrothed to the Princess Elmiriel and if you dare to repeat that vile slander I will have you charged with treasonous libel!"_ **

**_I laughed aloud, I just could not help it. Treasonous libel! Me, Gimli son of Gloín son of Groin of the Iron Mountains, kinsman to Dain Ironfoot, accused a traitor to the land of Gondor! Me, one of the Nine, guilty of such a thing? It was beyond absurd and I secretly wished he would go running to his Adar and tell Aragorn the whole story. Before I could recover from my mirth and respond to this ridiculous threat, the prince was gone, making for the palace at a fast walk. I let him go, thinking to talk with Elessar later and chide him for permitting his son to develop such a wayward mouth. With the boy out of my beard I remembered the sorry state of my friend's health and set to do as the twins had bade me._ **

**_By the time I had gathered up the archer's few belongings and returned to the twin Lords' suite, a noisy congregation of Hobbits, Elves, and mortals was milling in the hallway outside the door. How the rumour has spread so quickly I don't know, but I suspect Eldarion's overexcited and voluble reaction was overheard by some of the palace staff. Legolas has always attracted a lot of notice and he can never escape from the wagging tongues of those with nothing better to do than gawk at him._ **

**_From within the chambers raised voices could be discerned: Aragorn's and Elladan's loudest. They were not arguing with one another, however, and I decided to enter in and find out how Legolas fared. If quiet was what he needed, this rabble would be painful to him and I intended to put a stop to it._ **

**_Inside I discovered Aragorn and Elladan contesting with Arwen and Elrohir and an Elf that I took to be Legolas' elder brother, for the resemblance was close. The King and the elder son of Elrond wanted to take the Wood Elf back to Imladris while Arwen and Elrohir thought Ithilien would be better. The archer's sibling demanded to return his younger brother to Eryn Lasgalen 'where he truly belongs'. None of them took any notice of me as I passed through to the inner chambers. There I found Legolas huddled on the bed, a pillow over his head and his arms wrapped tightly over it, rocking and whimpering in misery. At least they had put him into clean set of loose sleep-pants._ **

**_I was never more angry and once I set down my burdens I hurried back out to the scene of the contention and got Elladan's attention by yanking on his long black hair. Not saying a word, for I wished not to add my deep voice to the painful cacophony assaulting Legolas' sensitive ears, I merely pointed at his shut door, my face no doubt a fair example of the wrath boiling in my heart. They all fell silent and had enough conscience to look shamed. I then pointed to the outer door, and while this raised some mulish expressions and the threat of more vocal disagreement, particularly from Legolas' brother, Arwen sided with me and calmly shooed them out. Only Elrohir stayed and joined me back in the bedroom._ **

**_"Go and bid the servants prepare the bath," the Elf Lord bent down and whispered close to my ear. I made it so and met Elladan returning from the corridor. He and his brother tended Legolas and I kept guard before the entryway to their suite, turning away all who came to ask after the silvan prince. It was the next day before the door opened behind me and I was astounded to behold my friend looking much as he always did with only a hint of the troubles he had endured clouding his bright eyes. He offered me a smile, not the usual lighthearted one I so preferred but instead the subdued, cool one he had presented when first we met. It was not arrogant haughtiness that produced this expression, as I so long had believed, but rather insecurity and uncertainty. I was about to learn the true cause of Legolas' aloof demeanour during the early days of the Quest._ **

**_"Gimli my friend, will you walk with me? I have much I would say to you," said my elven brother-in-arms. Of course I agreed, but we strolled in silence for quite some time and indeed had left the walls of the city behind before Legolas would speak another word. At last he sighed and sat upon the ground beside a small tree, gazing at me ruefully where I stood waiting. "You know about the sea-longing, for I explained that when it first overtook me."_ **

**_"Aye," I sat down in front of him and held his gaze, something I had learned to do years ago, smiling a little over the memory of all the old tales told to dwarflings about the mesmerising magic of elven eyes. Well, it was true in many ways, except there was no danger in Legolas' stare, only sadness and kindliness._ **

**_"It is true that I am beset by this curse of my people, yet that is but part of the problem. It is more a longing for someone across the Sundering Sea that overwhelms me these days. It is always so this time of the season, for the festivities mark the beginning of the Last Days before he left. I never regret my oath to Aragorn but sometimes it is difficult to bear it well. I never had the chance to let him know, you see. Lord Erestor sailed to Aman, ignorant of my feelings."_ **

**_"Lord Erestor?" I could not hide my surprise and disbelief. I recalled this aristocratic statesman well; he had no use for anyone but his own people and even seemed to put himself above rubbing shoulders with any but a select few among those. At the Council of Elrond, he snubbed Legolas even worse than he did my kinsmen. At the wedding of Arwen to Aragorn, he managed to acknowledge the Wood Elf's contribution to the salvation of all of Arda but this with stiff formality. He showed open disdain when Elladan and Elrohir kept possessively close to Legolas throughout the celebration thereafter. Then, I thought he felt a Wood Elf undeserving of the twins' company and decided he must have known and disapproved the intimate relationship they shared._ **

**_"Yes. You were not expecting that. No one else knows except the twins. They knew from the start and tried to intercede for me, but Erestor had already heard about me from them. That is why they take it upon themselves to keep me near their hearts, for they told too much and it spoiled my chances with the noble elder."_ **

**_"What does that mean, Legolas? Are you telling me Elladan and Elrohir relayed the intimacies of their relationship with you to Erestor?"_ **

**_"That is a very nice way to say it!" Legolas laughed and clapped me on the shoulder warmly. "They were very eager to reveal they had been the first to lay claim to my body. Apparently, under the influence of too much wine, they made it a grand story told in the Hall of Fire. I am sure they also wanted to tell the tale first, fearing reprisals from their father once my father complained of their behaviour while in his home._ **

**_"I am much younger than they, you see, and was not exactly of age then. In addition, I was always a bit coddled and spoiled for being youngest of my siblings and they thought Adaren would demand restitution. They did not know Thranduil was too shamed to ever publicise what he had witnessed. So, they cast me as the wanton to protect themselves, never thinking I would arrive in Imladris to learn of their slanders, much less fall madly for their stern Noldo kinsman."_ **

**_Durin's Beard! I never realised until this moment the implications of these words! 'Thranduil was too shamed to ever publicise what he had witnessed.' The King must have caught them in the act. Ah, this makes the father's estrangement more comprehensible, though still deplorable in my view. Nay, let me continue while this is still fresh, for my initial reaction to Legolas' explanation focused on Elladan and Elrohir instead._ **

**_"Why those uncouth, ill-mannered, selfish sons of wargs! I will take my axe to certain sensitive regions of their anatomy! I will cut them down to size and…"_ **

**_"Nay, nay! Do not punish them, Gimli, for they have spent all the years since doing that themselves. They really care about me, you see, and it is hard for them to own up to this hurt they caused. Elrohir did all he could to make Erestor stay, even mentioning I would remain and saying I might need help establishing the colony in Ithilien. It did not work of course, and he was gone before I worked up the courage to approach him."_ **

**_"But why Erestor? I thought you loved the twins? Why, that Elf is not worthy of your affections if he spurned you even after Elladan and Elrohir admitted their lies."_ **

**_"I made them swear they would not reveal my feelings. Of course I love Elladan and Elrohir; they were my first loves and I will never close them off from my heart. It is very complicated, for I am also still angry with them while they are jealous that I wish to give my love to another besides them. Yet they are complete within themselves and just keep me close from guilt and pity. It is strange, for I need them though I wish I did not; I love them dearly yet long for another and it is they who have come between me and my heart's desire._ **

**_"You see, I wanted to win Erestor's love rather than just warm his bed. It was my hope that my part in the Quest would enable him to see past the lurid tales the twins had told. Even so, he merely spoke to me civilly at the wedding. He smiled, too, but in his eyes I could see how low he found me still. That was the first time I broke down. I knew he would never love me and it just destroyed me. I am deluged with grief, Gimli, for my heart is broken. If not for Elladan and Elrohir's unfailing devotion, I would have faded from it by now. So you see, any anger I harbour for them is balanced by gratitude, for without them I would have failed in my vow to Aragorn."_ **

**_I was dismayed to hear this speech, for it was plain that Legolas was terribly confused and in too much pain to sort everything out. I could not help reflecting that Elladan and Elrohir had not done much to help him comprehend things where they were concerned. I did not much like the idea of them using his sorrow to maintain access to his body, for I was more certain than ever that Legolas had never been with other lovers. They were indeed jealously protecting their exclusivity and I believed they would not be so eager to aid my friend to find real peace if it meant losing that unique connection._ **

**_Mayhap I am too cynical._ **

**_What else we said that day I do not recall so clearly. I know I attempted to console my friend and offered whatever help I might provide. I must have tried to convince him to be open with Aragorn, for I was sure the King would not hold our comrade to an oath that generated such terrible suffering. Legolas made me swear never to share the confidences he had given me, however, and as his friend I was bound to abide by his wishes. It was plain enough he did not want anyone else privy to his heart's sorrows._ **

**_The upshot of all we discussed amounted to his request to journey with me back to Aglarond. He wishes to remain a time in Fangorn where none will pressure him and he can give vent to his grief in privacy without alarming friends and kin folk. As I noted already, Legolas tends to wander off alone for months without giving anyone notice, yet now that he has had so severe a spell of grieving he is unlikely to enjoy that freedom. My part is to hide his true whereabouts should anyone come looking for him, even the twins._ **

**_Of course I agreed, yet I did not like the part about keeping secrets from his family and friends. Thus my dilemma, I am truly worried for Legolas. What if he worsens yet I am not wise enough to understand it? If the twins are the ones he relies upon, how can it be good to keep them unaware of his location? And now Elladan has pleaded with me to watch over Legolas, seeking to make me a spy, informing on his comings and goings. I am torn between loyalty to my friend and fear for his welfare. The Wood Elf will not easily forgive me if I betray his trust, yet I could never forgive myself if he succumbs to fading alone in Fangorn Forest._ **

__********************************************_ _

Erestor closed the battered old book carefully, tying the leather cover shut again, an aching, wrenching void filling the space where his spirit normally rested easily within his heart. Now it felt as if his feä had become sorely bruised, just like the old diary's cover. He knew he should not have taken the dwarf's journal and read from it, for it was almost a talisman for Legolas, but the archer had remained holed up in his rooms ever since their encounter on the porch, indeed was still in the bathing chamber, and Erestor was desperate to find any means of making things right between them. He had tried to go to Legolas mere minutes after the ailing archer's hasty retreat only to be blocked by Galion and Mithrandir. Those two had arrived on the scene so quickly the elder Elf was sure they had been inside the study, watching the coupling from start to finish.

He was furious and accused them of that very thing but they would not answer him, giving him such cold looks that he withdrew to his own rooms on the third floor. Erestor tried to keep his anger burning. How could Legolas think to speak of love when they had only really met a couple of days ago? Attraction and desire were one thing and these he could admit to easily. He could even say he felt warmly for the young silvan Elf, a desire to grow closer than friendship, but that was not the same as declaring love. Yet Legolas had meant those softly whispered wistful words, the Lord of Meril Thaifn was sure of it, and that realisation doused his wrath completely. Desperate to understand something of this impetuous Elf's mind, Erestor had recalled the diary and the archer's remark about Gimli's entries mostly pertaining to him.

Rationalising away the impropriety and breach of trust, Erestor fished the journal out of Legolas' pack and started reading where the book fell open of its own accord. Reasoning that this must be a passage the silvan referred to often, the Elf Lord hoped to find some key to understanding what was motivating Legolas.  _Oh, I comprehend it now and the truth is devastating._  To realise he had been the cause of such terrible hurt to Legolas for so many long years was unbearable.  _And I have just heaped on more pain. No wonder he is avoiding me. Somehow I must correct this dreadful impasse. He believes I have rejected his heart._

Erestor was not any closer to knowing what to do, however, and was about to try another passage from the book when a brisk rapping on his door startled him. Hoping it was Mithrandir come to fetch him down to Legolas, the vintner bounded from his bed and flung the portal wide.

"What are you two doing here?" Erestor demanded in supreme disappointment. There stood Elladan and Elrohir upon his threshold. "Did you not leave only an hour or so ago?"

"Oh no, we are not going to be put off, Erestor. We just came from Legolas' rooms and Galion will not let us in," barked Elrohir in sharply menacing tones.

"What have you done to upset him?" Elladan added, leaning forward and jabbing his forefinger against his former tutor's sternum. The older twin's eyes grew huge the next instant and he leaned even closer, breathing in a deep lungful of the air surrounding Erestor. The scent of Legolas clung to the elder Noldo thickly and well did Elladan know the distinct aroma of the Wood Elf's passion. Indeed, there was still a slight smear of the rich ejaculate painting Erestor's side. With a started cry Elladan staggered back, turning and racing back down the stairs towards Legolas' rooms, calling for him in desperation as he ran.

"You absolute cad," growled Elrohir, having realised exactly the same thing at exactly the same instant as his brother. He shoved Erestor hard and following his stumbling form into the room. "Could you not do as we asked and wait? Not even a day, Erestor? Valar, Legolas is a wreck, how could you?' he was shouting and every time Erestor straightened up Elrohir shoved him hard again until at last the former seneschal fell back upon the sofa by the hearth. "And he is upset, so something went wrong. He has been waiting for that moment, dreaming about being with you, loving you and being loved in return for more years than I like to think on. What did you do to spoil it for him, you craven dog?"

"It was not my intention to do him any harm, Elrohir, and I regret it terribly," Erestor insisted. "You must assist me; Legolas refuses to see me. I need to make him understand."

"Understand what, ion?" demanded a stern voice from the hallway. There stood Dammand glaring in baleful disappointment at his dear son. He walked in and shut the door behind him. "I have learned from Tulus that our young guest is refusing to open the door even for his old nanny."

"He has been with Legolas, intimately, and hurt him; body, soul, heart or all three I know not. Our True-bow will not even let us in to learn of it," relayed Elrohir in evident disgust, pointing down in accusation at his father's kinsman.

"Nay, I never meant to hurt him; you are not listening! It was a misunderstanding! I was just taken by surprise and would gladly make it right if I could gain access to Thranduilion."

"You have had quite enough access, I should think!" shouted Elrohir, bending over his former tutor in menace.

"Enough, Peace!" exhorted Dammand, cautiously touching Elrohir's shoulder to divert his attention. "I know well that you cherish him, Lord Elrohir, but that does not mean you are the only one to do so. Let us discuss this calmly and learn if some solution may be reached which helps our friend."

Elrohir stared at the ancient warrior in silence for a long moment, eyes blazing in both anguish and anger, for Dammand was correct. He did love Legolas dearly and to realise he was no longer the twins' alone wounded Elrohir's heart. He had known of the archer's infatuation with the Lord of Meril Thaifn, but had come to feel it was a fantasy that would never be realised. Indeed, he had hoped the secret desire would never come to more than that, a wishful yearning that had worked to enhance their lovemaking over the years. Now it was clear: he would never truly hold any more of Legolas' heart than he had already been given, and the Peredhel Lord was acutely jealous. With that internal admission came a blinding visualisation of his selfishness and crude possessiveness. He ought to be thinking of what was best for Legolas, and Legolas wanted Erestor. Elrohir sighed, sending all this conflicting emotion his brother's way as well, and bowed his head low.

"You are both wise and compassionate, Lord Dammand," he said. "I will do whatever serves Legolas' heart."

"Well said, young Elrondion, but call me not 'Lord' for I am but an old soldier among the rank and file of those who perished at Gondolin. Now, let us see what we can discover about this unpleasant dilemma."

They both sat, Dammand next to Erestor and Elrohir in a chair beside them, and listened patiently as Erestor explained his error in judgement and his involuntary reaction to his youthful lover's heartfelt admission.

TBC

 


	11. Chapter 11

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Eleven: Legolas Throws a Tantrum

"You lied, do not even try and deny it! You have lived here all this time and never revealed the relationship between Dammand and Mairo. You kept it from me; obviously your loyalty is not as unfailing as you would have me think it!" Legolas bellowed, going up on his toes so he could focus the scathing glare of his vividly lapis eyes directly into Galion's agitated amber ones. "What else have you been hiding? Did you know how Erestor really feels about me? Have you conspired to keep me in the dark about that, too?" He could not hold the pose, however, feeling very unsteady and a bit sore, and dropped back to his soles. To counter the loss of stature, for he was a good six inches shorter than the venerable butler, he crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back on his old tutor.

"Nay, you are completely wrong about this, Brannonlas," Galion tried not to be offended, for he could see his charge was in acute distress, but it was difficult to hear such words and not be wounded by them. "I knew nothing of Dammand and Mairo and I have kept nothing from you about Erestor. My devotion to you is unshakeable and you should know this beyond question. What is all this about? Erestor's feelings have always been ambivalent and Tulus and I have worked steadily to soften him in your regard. Did I tell you to let him bed you the first time you find yourself alone with him?"

"Well you certainly did not advise against it! Your actions spoke more eloquently than your silence, Galion; you encouraged me and you know it!" Legolas paced around the small bathing chamber, climbing into and out of the empty tub as he made the circuit for there was no other way around with Galion in the room. He had insisted on speaking with his long-time friend alone and since Legolas refused to exit the bathroom Galion had been forced to go in.

"How do you come to that notion?" demanded the Chief Steward of Meril Thaifn hotly, watching Legolas with apprehension. The youngest of Thranduil's children, once his temper was fuelled, was not an easy companion with which to be locked in a tiny space.

"Oh let me see: first, you let him tend to me when I was sick instead of having Tulus take care of me. Erestor had his hands all over my naked body for hours! Second, you made sure he brought me all my favourite things for breakfast so I would feel all mushy about his desire to please me so. I would wager he does not have the least idea of what kind of tea I drink! Third, and this is the crucial point, I do not have any clothes! What was I supposed to do when his fingers were roaming all over my aching flesh?" Legolas screamed right in Galion's ear to make sure he did not miss any of the words.

"I am not the one who arranged that special breakfast," denied the seneschal weakly, trying to back away but finding he could not go far before the sink pressed into his spine.

"He is quite right, Legolas; that is entirely my fault," these muffled words wafted through the door, Mithrandir being on the other side of it. "I did not truly intend to deceive you. Please come out and allow me to explain."

"Ego!" (Go away!) Legolas shouted and with a leap was before the door which he pounded with his fist so hard the wood shivered ominously. "I do not want to talk to you! You were watching us; I know you were. How dare you?" He slammed his palm against the portal again and kicked it for good measure. There was an ominously noisy pop as the wood cracked, a long rent racing almost halfway up the door's length. "And stop eavesdropping!"

"I am not eavesdropping, you are shouting loudly enough for the Valar to hear you," replied the wizard tersely.

"So you cannot deny it; you were watching!" Legolas hollered in a strange combination of injured feelings and angry triumph. He pummelled the door again and then leaned upon it, finding he needed help remaining upright, pressing his cheek against the cool, smooth wood.

With his ear thus against its surface he could hear the soft sniffling of Tulus where she sat on the chair by his bed weeping. That caused him a brisk internal scolding for causing her to worry so. He caught the Istar's repentant sigh and wished he had not accused the wizard so harshly. He detected the almost silent footfalls of an elf walking across the marble foyer toward his rooms and everything else vanished from his awareness. He panicked.  _What if it is Erestor? Has he heard me?_

Legolas pushed back from the door and wheeled about, grasping the butler's tunic in both hands, eyes wild and respiration coming in rapid, shallow gusts. He shook the worried elf frantically. "Galion, I have to get out of here! I cannot face him right now. Help me!" he whispered hoarsely.

"Ai, Pen Dithen, easy now," soothed the steward, gripping the archer's forearms with an iron clasp, determined to hold on and try to call him. "He is not out there; be calm."

"He is; I heard him approaching. Let me go; I have to get out!" Legolas jerked and twisted, trying to free himself, a hopeless endeavour which he remembered ruefully from his days in Greenwood, for Galion was more tenacious than a bulldog once he got his fingers firmly locked around a limb (or a neck). Legolas struggled harder, determined to make for the small open window above the tub and escape further humiliation, though where he planned to go in order to avoid that, naked and injured, he had not thought about. His thrashing only resulted in toppling them both into the smooth marble (pink of course) basin where they fell with a painful crash.

A loud grunt of agony and irritation combined accompanied the heavy thud of Legolas' shoulder striking the stone as Galion's shin slammed against the rim and he was yanked on top of the former Fellowship member. He banged his nose on the crown of Legolas' head and gave a sharp yelp. They both groaned in misery and had to wait a few seconds for the initial flare of acute throbbing to subside a bit before attempting to extricate themselves from the predicament.

Intensive rattling of the door handle ensued, joined by various shouts and yells of concern and fear for their welfare, in no less than four different voices.

"Legolas! Galion! What is happening?" cried Gandalf. "Stand back, let me blast the door."

"Herven? What have you done to Brannonlas? Open this door right now!" Tulus forgot her tears and was beating the wood with the flat of her hand.

"Cuthenin, please answer me! Are you all right? Let me in, Legolas, please!" Elladan was already distraught and this new development had him in a frenzy of dread. The wizard and the nanny were blocking his path and in vain he tried to get around them.

"Enough, you are not helping matters, none of you. Everyone, please step away from the door."

This calm, commanding voice did not issue from Dammand, nor from Elrohir, and certainly not from Erestor, for they were all in the Lord of Meril Thaifn's rooms while this disturbance took place. The melodious speech had a reassuring yet authoritative cadence Legolas had never heard before and his curiosity was awakened in spite of himself. He lifted his head and peered over Galion's shoulder, which was currently wedged under his chin and against his windpipe most uncomfortably, and watched as the door did not open but the owner of the voice entered anyway.

Mairo stood before the bolted barrier and gazed down upon them, meeting the Wood Elf's eyes with compassion and kindly concern. He was as tall as Dammand and built like a swordsman, broad shouldered and trim with thickly muscled arms which he showed off from his sleeveless green leather tunic. His thick mane of long black hair was bound back at the nape of his neck in a long glossy plait and around his brow he wore a woven band of leather above his deep-set hazel eyes.

The Maia's face was as pleasing to look upon as his form; his skin was hairless and tanned a golden brown and he kept a placid smile, more impression than expression, about his firm carmine lips. His jaw was strong without showing stubbornness; his nose straight without indicating haughtiness, his body bursting with vigour and strength yet projected no threat. He was dressed as if prepared for the hunt, wearing sturdy buckskin breeches and knee-high boots in black, and while he carried no weapons there was not a bit of doubt that he was quite capable of overpowering just about anyone, except perhaps Tulkas.

"Here, give me your hand," he said to Legolas and somehow managed to get both elves out of the tub and on their feet. As he surveyed the archer his worry grew, for the youngest son of Thranduil was trembling and the injured shoulder already had a spreading purple bruise marring it, but it was the haunted look in the watery blue orbs that troubled him most. Mairo turned his attention to Galion. "Go and fetch Legolas some of that Miruvor for he is shivering." Even as the steward bowed low in deference his eyes grew round in amazement for the Istar produced a neatly folded bundle of garments from the air and offered it to Legolas. "I am Mairo. Here, you will feel better once you are clothed."

"Thank you," murmured Legolas, surprised not to be upset that this stranger was helping him dress. He found he had trouble keeping his balance for a sharp throb in the head indicated he had bumped more than his shoulder in the fall. The support of a strong hand was a comfort rather than an embarrassment. He was equally amazed to find that these were in fact his own clothes, yet how they came to be at Meril Thaifn he knew not, unless Elladan had brought them. In no time he was clad in a loose white cotton tunic and indigo leggins.

He did not protest when Mairo wrapped a steadying arm around his shoulders and drew him out of the room, opening the door without touching it. Legolas felt safe, as he had when his eldest brother used to help him out of a scrape when he was an elfling. That comparison proved too much for his overburdened emotions, for it had in fact been centuries since Legolas had even seen Inarthan, and he did not have sufficient energy to fight the tears that fell.

Somehow they walked past the waiting visitors but Legolas barely noticed; he felt too confused and drained to try and explain anything. He was only aware of being grateful no one started firing questions at him as Mairo helped him back onto the bed and shifted the pillows so he could sit up against the headboard. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed deeply, listening as Mairo ushered everyone out except Mithrandir. He heard Elladan's attempt at argument dwindle away as the outer door was shut. The mattress compressed slightly and he opened his eyes to find Mairo seated beside him, holding out a small glass.

"Sip it slowly and rest," he ordered gently and Legolas obeyed. "Worry not, Estë is on her way; all will be well soon."

"Are you certain that was wise? I am not eager for Legolas' whereabouts to become known among the Valar," said Mithrandir gravely.

"I know; we shall have to manage as best we can. He is in danger; can you not see? How long has he been like this?" Mairo's wondrous voice took on tones of remonstrance as he replied.

"Forever!" Legolas choked out around a sob and turned over to hide his face in the pillows. There were no tears left by this time but gnawing pain in his chest made him feel as though he would vomit. A melodic sprinkle of sound arose as he cast the delicate crystal goblet to the floor.

Mairo gently rubbed his back but did not say anything, only glaring hard at Olórin.

Mithrandir shifted around aimlessly, not pacing so much as roaming, and scowled; he was around Legolas so much he had failed to take note of the small changes that had been accumulating over time. The gradual decline from healthy, robust Wood Elf to depleted, grief-stricken silvan had escaped him. "I thought his injuries accounted for his condition, you see. He rarely returns from these missions whole. I did not neglect him purposefully."

Before Mairo could voice the retort that formed in his mind, Estë arrived. She walked into the room, opening the door like a normal creature of flesh and blood, closed it soundlessly behind her, and approached the bedside.

The Vala with the gift of restful healing was smiling gently, her perpetual expression, and her eyes held the picture of her depth of wisdom within them. They were as black as Mithrandir's but lacked the sharp and cunning edge his orbs projected. She was small in stature and slightly plump, with a face that showed what would be called age among humans, though not as advanced as that the Grey Pilgrim demonstrated. Her black hair was streaked here and there with white and gathered up in a tight bun at the back of her head, over which she had a lovely silken veil of pale peach, sheer and soft and edged in tiny golden beads. This head covering was wrapped across her chest and draped over her left shoulder where it cascaded down her back. Beneath this her gown was of a deeper, richer shade of salmon, long but slit from thigh to ankle, and beneath it she wore pants of matching hue, trimmed in matching bead-work. The shoes on her tiny feet were of soft black leather.

Estë did not hesitate, settling beside Legolas as Mairo immediately vacated his spot on the mattress. Soon it was the Vala softly soothing the distraught elf, murmuring comforting words and coaxing him into a calmer state of mind. In no time she had gathered him up in her arms and let him bury his head in her bosom. She let him snuggle close and soon had him pouring out all his woes in a broken chain of mumbled words distorted by remnant dry sobs. Estë waved one hand at the two Maiar to tell them to get out without having to interrupt the deluge of discontent and despair finally spilling over after so many centuries of being dammed up within the Wood Elf's compromised soul. It took a while longer before all his words were exhausted and Legolas loosened his clutching grip upon her exquisite gown with a deep and shaking sigh. She settled him back into the pillows but kept one of his hands firmly between her own.

"I just cannot bear it anymore," he said with quiet finality. "I have no friends here. I am alone and I cannot endure it."

"Nay, you are not alone. You have many friends, young one. Mithrandir is very devoted to you, for one," she countered.

"Mithrandir finds me useful in his endeavour to protect the Severed Realms, that is why he checks up on me."

"No, that is not true," she began but Legolas cut her off.

"It is! He does not ever ask to do anything with me that does not involve some plot or scheme."

"But my dear child that is all that Mithrandir ever does!"

"No, we are the last of the Nine and there should be more of a bond, yet he does not wish for such a thing. He goes to important meetings with Manwë and Oromë and visits with various people he is close to; people he has known here in Valinor much longer than he has known me. When he wants to relax, he spends time with Aiwendil."

Estë nodded sympathetically. "He is Maiar, you are elf-kind. Olórin's time in Middle-earth was short compared to his time here. There are many he counts as friends. Just because his circle is broader than yours does not mean he thinks less of you. But I know that is not what you mean." The Vala leaned forward and placed her palm over Legolas' heart. "In here, this is where you need friends just now. The emptiness has been growing daily and filling with darkness, stifling your inner light. Why have you not asked for help, young one?"

A listless shrug and a frown was all the answer Legolas would give.

"Is there truly no one you could turn to? What of Elladan and Elrohir? You have a close relationship to them, Legolas. You have known them since you were little more then an elfling and everyone knows there is a bond betwixt you three." Estë reminded. She meant to be encouraging and was not prepared for the twisting of her patient's features into such an expression of dire extremity.

"They pity me!" he spat out, blue eyes sparking with pain and rage. "They only like me for sex. They think nothing of me at all as a person. The bond is between the two of them and I am just an accessory they like to use occasionally to heighten their pleasure."

"If that is true then why is Elladan out in the hallway pacing in distracted anxiety over your well-being?"

"He feels guilty. He and Elrohir said things they should have kept private and ruined my chances with Erestor forever. The truth is, if I cease to exist he would feel bad only because of that guilt. And he would be just fine for Elrohir will always be at his side."

"Nay, Legolas, the reasons may be complex and convoluted but his concern is not founded in contrition alone. Have you ever wondered, if this bond between them is as strong as you say, how each endures the other's craving to be a part of your life as well?"

"Yes, I have wondered over it often. The answer must be that what they feel for me is so insignificant compared to the depth of love they share between them that neither is concerned over my casual inclusion in their union."

"Legolas, your inclusion, as you term it, is far more deeply rooted than you imagine. Elladan and Elrohir cannot turn from you or bear even the idea of having you removed from their lives. It is true, they feel guilt for keeping you close, yet they try and permit you to have a life beyond them. Never have they questioned or judged you regarding the numerous rumours of your amorous activities, but they worry about it all the time and wonder what part they played in placing you on that road. The twins have lived in dread that you would fade since the days of the ring Quest; if this should happen they would soon suffer grief as strong as you are suffering right now."

Legolas said nothing to that, too tired in body and spirit to bother arguing, but his eyes plainly revealed his doubt.

Estë sighed and sat back, placing both hands around his and giving another strong squeeze; the depression was very deep indeed and as yet she had not found the key to turn Legolas from his longing for death. She wondered if she should continue to try countering his stubborn assessment of friendlessness or switch to those that loved him dearly and would be devastated by his passing into Mandos. Legolas decided for her.

"My own family despises me. I have not seen Nana in 75 years and Inarthan has great-great-great-grandchildren I have never met. Adar wishes I had never been born. No wonder I cannot convince Erestor I am worth loving; there must be a great deal wrong with me for my blood kin to spurn me."

"Ah, this is also faulty reasoning. Your father has behaved poorly toward you and yet he attempted reconciliation when you arrived in Aman. You declined to accept his offer of peace. Had you done so, you could be with your family now. Why did you do this when the result has caused you such agony of spirit?" Estë already knew the answer, of course, but needed Legolas to speak his mind aloud.

"He asked of me something I deemed dishonourable," Legolas face clouded over with fierce rage as the memory filled his thoughts. "When I told him that, Adar accused me of betraying our family 'again' and declared I need not stay since I failed to appreciate the great gift of having so many relatives ready to 'forgive' my association with a Dwarf."

"And do you regret that you stood up to him and spoke your heart?"

Legolas was quiet for a long time, staring intently at the veins and wrinkles on Estë's hand where it still gripped his pale, unmarked fingers. "Nay, I do not regret it. I just miss my family."

"You are not estranged from them all. Your Naneth loves you still and Oropher dotes on you. He welcomed Gimli on account of this love for you."

"Aye, Minya'dar first accepted Gimli because he was my friend. As time went on, they came to be genuine comrades." A faint smile flickered through Legolas' eyes as he recalled the many years he and The Dwarf, as the son of Gloin was known in Valinor, had dwelled with Oropher. "Gimli was a true friend. He left everything he loved behind him and came here with me. To 'look after me' he said. And he did exactly that, standing between me and harm more times than I can count; not just physical harm for there is little of that here. He knew about the twins but never criticised me for letting them use me. He understood, unlike others I will not name. But he is dead and I know he is in Mandos. If I go there, I will be with my friend again."

"Yes he was a rare person, so very loyal to you and someone you trusted beyond question. You loved him dearly, did you not?" Estë encouraged. "I wonder what he thinks of all this turmoil you are in."

Legolas smile grew a little. "He will be positively raving! He will be shouting and calling me 'Wooden-headed Elf' and 'point-eared fool' and 'over-dramatic, emotional elfling'. Gimli would be threatening to thump me over the head with his axe handle to knock some sense back into it."

"So, Gimli does not pine for you to join him there in Mandos?"

Legolas peered at her sharply for a minute and then glanced away out the toward the veranda again. "Nay. He would not wish that. He would tell me not to give up and to fight for what I want. That is what he always said, that I could not expect anything to change if I took no action to make things change."

"That is wise counsel. Yet you did not heed it. Vairë had to intervene before you would approach Erestor."

"Well my fears were justified, it turns out!" Legolas tried to pull his hand away but she would not let him. "It is just like with the twins; he wants to enjoy my body but has no wish for anything more."

The bitterness in the words was enough to make the Vala scowl in discomfort.

"That is yet to be determined. You must recall that he has not permitted himself to think of you as a person. He has viewed you as a sort of icon of wild abandonment, reckless conduct, and rebellion against the accepted social structure of which he is a part and to which he is accustomed. Now that he is learning more about who you are, he may indeed find his heart awakened. Erestor, for all you have learned of him, has many secrets only his father and mother know. There is a tragic history there, and when he shares that with you, then you will understand his reaction to your facade of wanton promiscuity," Estë cautiously explained.

Legolas' interest was immediately focused on his long-time crush and for this the Vala inhaled a deep breath of relief, for she finally felt the grip of despondency loosen its hold upon his heart.

"What happened to him? Did he lose someone he loved? Please tell me!" he urged, clasping her fingers tightly and sitting up fully.

"Nay, surely you know it is wrong for me to do that. Erestor needed my aid once just as you do now; no more can I tell you. I can say that I am not displeased with Vairë's scheming, however, for I believe you may be the one to finally heal that wound in the noble vintner. Would you help him if you could, Legolas?" Estë felt a little guilty using this tactic to distract Legolas from his woes, but she was determined to prevent his ultimate flight into Mandos, a fate clinging too close to the Wood Elf's soul for her comfort.

"Of course I would!" insisted Legolas, somewhat perturbed that she could doubt such a thing. "Erestor means everything to me; tell me what to do."

"Just give him time. Return to the personality he encountered in the cave by the pool and let him come to understand you. Allow him to get to know you, to trust you with more than his physical form. It is true he does not love you as you love him, not yet. If you restrain your impatience and control your despair, he may grow to love you dearly. As difficult as it may be for you to perceive it, he is even more skittish of revealing his heart than you."

"There is hope then? I have not ruined everything?" Legolas wanted to believe her.

"Nay, you have not spoiled things one bit. It was just too much too soon, especially for you. Legolas, you have permitted this growing dispondency to place you in terrible situations. What are you punishing yourself for, young one?"

Legolas startled and his eyes opened wide, for he had not thought of things in exactly this way before. Was he doing that? Taking risks he could avoid and allowing harm to find him? He shook his head, too confused to reason it out. "I do not know," he stumbled over the simple words and looked at her imploringly to supply the answer.

"Ai, I fear it is true. You have been courting death and these excursions into the Severed Realms are getting more and more dangerous with each journey. Legolas, if Erestor had not found you in the cave, you would have either bled to death or succumbed to the poisoning from the lead. Even now, with those dangers removed, you are close to fading from the atrocities to which Ringë subjected you."

"You know of that? Did Erestor tell you?" Legolas was completely mortified and dropped his eyes to his lap.

"No, I have not spoken to Erestor today. Nor I am referring just to what happened in the cave, but to all that took place while you were Ringë's prisoner. It is not difficult to surmise the truth; the evidence is all over your body and your very soul bleeds away its vitality in horror over it. Even the twins have guessed. I think that is why you were so eager to let Erestor take his pleasure of you. You needed to know he still found you attractive after such a violation."

"Aye," Legolas' whispered confirmation was scarcely audible and he kept his sight turned down, struggling not to cry again over it all.

"Then you have been answered fully. If he remains close to you he is bound to find as much to admire in your character as he finds pleasing in your appearance. Now, I will see to it you take a deep and healing sleep, but the decision is ultimately yours whether you live or die. Will you help to complete this work you started with Mithrandir? Will you fight for Erestor's heart and offer the healing only a love so complete as yours can give him? Will you try?" She removed one of her hands from around his and used it to lift up his chin, softly smooth down his tangled hair, and wipe away a few damp tear streaks upon his cheek.

Legolas' chest constricted and his breath hitched, for her words brought a sharp stab of pain to his heart. "I will, but it is so hard to carry on alone. I do not know how long…"

"Be at peace for you are not alone. Have you forgotten your Minya'dar? I shall return you to his care for now and there his love will strengthen you. When next you meet Erestor, this painful experience will not be so dreadful. Now, settle back and relax, for I intend to remove all cares from your mind. You will not be aware, even of your dreams; do I have your permission to do this, little one?"

"Aye," Legolas nodded as he shimmied down and switched over on his side, burrowing deep into the comfort of the luxurious feather mattress with a sigh of satisfaction. He was so very tired. "Will I forget even when I awaken?"

"Nay, but neither will you be tormented. Rest now," she commanded and sang him to sleep. As exhausted as he was in body and soul it did not take long to send him into a deep coma. His respiration slowed and his eyelids drooped almost all the way shut; Legolas lay completely limp and unresponsive on the bed. Estë smiled and bent down to place a kiss on his temple and a gentle pat on his shoulder before exiting the room. As soon as she entered the small parlour everyone jumped up and crowded close, eager to learn of Legolas' status. Elrohir, Dammand, and Erestor had joined the others.

"I have put him at rest, fear not. He will not fade just yet but it was a very near event. There is much he was not even able to speak about and these things will have to be dealt with before he is truly well. Go; Tulus, Olórin, and I shall watch over him." So saying, Estë opened the door to the hallway and bowed them out. No one had the temerity to disobey an order from one of the Valar and so they all filed past her, collecting in the foyer with dissatisfied looks upon their worried faces.

"She did not tell us much," mourned Elrohir.

"She did not tell us anything," corrected Elladan.

"You must not have been listening then," admonished Mairo. "Estë has forestalled his death for now but the remedy is not a permanent cure. Your friend is fading from grief and has been suffering a very long time. Did you not hear her say Legolas has hurts so painful he cannot acknowledge them out loud?"

At his words all the elves took on the hang-dog look of dejected despondency so common in the hopeless. No one knew what to say. At last Dammand spoke.

"Let us go out into the gardens and talk of this. We need to find a way to aid our young friend. Galion, you have known him since his birth; surely the cause of this deep grief is known to you."

Galion grimaced as he followed the others out and he set his jaw in a way Erestor knew well. There would be nothing informative from his steward regarding Legolas. "Aye, there is little about Legolas I do not know, but there are some things he has demanded my sworn oath never to reveal. Despite what he said earlier, I would never betray my Brannonlas." Abruptly the seneschal halted. "You folk go and find a place to settle; I will see what is available in the way of refreshment."

With that Galion left them and not one doubted his displeasure with them one bit. The group wandered into the gardens and found a quiet place among the rose bushes where there was a quaint gazebo with padded benches inside. They shuffled in and sat, silent and brooding, and no one spoke for a long moment.

"Well," said Mairo finally, "I have nothing of value to offer except my fresh observations, which may have revealed what the more regular view of the archer most of you enjoy has hidden. He is definitely not a lover to Ringë; there is real terror in his mind over what he endured under the hands of Ulmo's disciple. And he lost someone dear to him recently, no doubt on this fiasco amid the Severed Realms."

"Dear to him? We know everyone he cares about and no one has passed into Mandos recently," scoffed Elrohir.

"Legolas has a double life, as Mithrandir already explained," interposed Erestor. "The one spoken of must be among the mortals he has befriended across the sea. Foolish elf, he should have learned by now not to hold a mortal close to his heart, for they are destined to perish."

"Legolas is not foolish just open-hearted," Elladan's anger flared and he glared hard at his kinsman. "Mortals have been better companions for him than his own kind, as it turns out. He is right to cherish such friendship, regardless how short-lived."

"Let us not subside into bickering," interrupted Mairo judiciously.

"Quite right," amended Erestor. "I meant not to slight Legolas, it is just that he seems to put himself into situations that generate pain. Now, I do not claim to know him well, yet when I came upon him in the cave his defences were down. He let it slip how very deep this rift with his father has grown; I had no idea his entire family, save for Oropher, shuns him. I wonder if you two can shed any light on that, for I am certain this is one source of his despair." The Lord of Meril Thaifn knew much more than this, of course, after his furtive perusal of Gimli's journal. He fixed his baleful eye upon first Elrohir and then Elladan.

"Why do you focus upon us? Our contribution to his estrangement from Thranduil happened very long ago and of that you know. There has to be something more for the breech to continue into present time," Elladan defended himself and his brother.

"Aye, for one thing Gimli's insinuation into Legolas' life was a huge point of contention. Thranduil accused his son of shaming the family honour by keeping a dwarven lover, reasoning that only for such reasons would Gimli abandon all he knew and loved in Middle-earth to venture here," added Elrohir.

"Do you believe that?" demanded Erestor.

"Nay, we know that is false. Not that Legolas would have been against it, but Gimli does not feel desire for males. In fact, we know of an elven maid who is now in Mandos for grief over loosing Gimli. She was very devoted and remained by his side right until his death. She and Legolas were close and I am sure her loss weighs upon him, too, " replied Elrohir.

"True, but he told me once it comforts him to know they are not parted; at peace together in Nâmo's domain," appended Elladan.

"Then we return to your joint contribution from which you hurriedly diverted our attention," reminded Erestor pointedly.

All eyes remained riveted upon the twins and no one noticed that Galion had failed to return. The brothers squirmed under the intensity of the scrutiny and sighed in unison.

"I suppose we did cause the initial strife between them. It was a great shock to Legolas, for he did not understand his father's sudden aversion. Thranduil really behaves like an oaf most of the time, but Legolas never noticed for he was very young and only knew that his Ada adored him. He cannot get over that his Adar's love is granted only under a very stringent set of conditions," Elrohir began.

"You knew what Thranduil is really like, however, for he has snubbed your family for Ages," commented Dammand drily. "Why did you even go to his Kingdom?"

Mairo's brows went up. "Indeed. Perhaps the motives for visiting your attentions upon Legolas were related more to revenge than simple lust."

The brothers flinched under this censure but did not refute it.

"All right. I suppose everyone here suspects anyway and perhaps the truth will remove some of the unearned disfavour Legolas has been forced to endure over the Ages," Elladan sent Erestor a pointed glare. "Mairo speaks the truth. We plotted to go and upset Thranduil's pristine little world after a most ungracious comment he made about our mother. He is truly insufferable at times and we were incensed. We felt like gathering a small army and becoming kinslayers, that is how ugly his remark was. Thus, when we hatched this other scheme, it seemed to our minds we were giving him an easier punishment than he deserved."

"We had all heard about his youngest child. This ethereal being so blessed by the Valar with beauty and grace as to rival the people of Ingwë. Thranduil was always bragging about Legolas, remarking on his exemplary character, his superb skill as an archer, his bravery in battle, his unparalleled perfection in every attribute one could think to name," Elrohir continued.

"And name them the King did. Unceasingly. Every communication out of Mirkwood was riddled with his boasting of Legolas. Usually while sneering down on others' offspring and relatives," Elladan interposed.

"Meaning you two I suspect," snorted Dammand.

"Aye. We do not mean to excuse ourselves from fault; we realised quickly the damage we had caused. It is just that we were blinded by our wrath at the time," answered Elladan quietly.

"What did Thranduil say that caused you to so easily lose sight of your normal scruples?" enquired Mairo.

Neither twin spoke for a time and plainly they were silently discussing whether they should reveal this. At last they heaved shallow sighs together and nodded in unison. "We will speak, but only because you ask. I do not want any of you to think we believe this justifies our actions. Not anymore at least.

"Thranduil learned about our Naneth's capture and assault by the orcs for Adar had sent notice to all the elven lands explaining why any and all expected actions from Imladris would be put on hold indefinitely, from general correspondence to official diplomatic functions. We heard about the King's response from our messenger when he returned. He told us Thranduil remarked that it was nothing less than one might expect when the Lady of the lands was permitted to traipse about without fitting warriors to escort her. He said he was not surprised the twin Lords were not there to stave off the attack, having heard we were too occupied with dalliances and grand parties rather than concerned with protecting our own," Elrohir explained the cause of their anger succinctly.

"You felt guilty because you were not with Celebrian and Thranduil's thoughtless comments reinforced that notion," Erestor nodded thoughtfully. "I can understand how terrible that must have been. I wish you had come to me or to your father before undertaking to settle a score that never existed in the first place. Thranduil never intended those words to get beyond his borders, I am sure. Our messengers were trained in subterfuge in those days and no doubt the courier was listening in without the King's knowledge."

"He spoke thus nonetheless and we could not find a means to shrug it off. As you stated, we felt badly enough and it was not Thranduil's place to lay blame upon us, even if we accepted it on our own," was Elladan's morose reply. "He made a mockery of our love for Naneth and our sense of duty to her."

"We decided to tarnish his perfect son a little and see how he liked having his offspring's character maligned abroad. Before you say or think it, we did not set out to accomplish the complete debauchery of the sterling warrior prince," stated Elrohir. "Our goal was to be achieved through rumour and innuendo and having Legolas get caught in some compromising situations."

"Once we got there and met him, things changed," concluded Elladan.

TBC[  
](http://www.tawarwaith.com/index1.html)  



	12. Chapter 12

# Hîr o Meril Thaifn

#### "The Lord of Rose Pillars"

   by erobey | un-beta'd |   _Italics=thoughts_  


## Part Twelve: The Hart Hunter Loses His Heart

  


#### The Year 2953 of the Third Age, deep in the Woodland Realm:

There was only a stale, dead stillness in the thick, dank air. No sounds of life invaded the heavy dusky haze beneath the canopy. The trees were the only things functioning and even these seemed to be decaying where they stood, rotting from the inside out leaving only the twisted, black-marred bolls and limbs either drooping in agonised defeat or upraised in desperation, reaching for any aid beyond the enveloping darkness poisoning the very soil, water, and light. It was hard to believe this place was part of the same world that held such treasures as Imladris, Mithlond, and Lothlorien.

The silence was overwhelming and served to make every sense come alive with anxious dread. Eyes darted in every direction, making a continuous sweep of the shadowed terrain; ears strained for something other than their own footfalls, anything besides the eerie scraping and groaning of the desiccated branches rubbing against one another over their heads; swords were drawn and muscles tensed for combat at any instant. Elladan and Elrohir trod as quietly as Elves can yet still regretted the subtle shifty crumbling and resettling of the thick duff each step initiated. There was no mistaking the sense of being trespassers; the forest was not pleased with their intrusion. Surely the vile trees would alert the residents of Dol Guldur of the interlopers; an ambush would be sprung at any moment.

 _I am ready, why do they hesitate? Let them come and we will teach them not to bar the way of the Peredhil._

 _Aye. I feel as though a thousand eyes track our progress and a host lies in wait behind these ghastly trees. What this place requires is a good Dwarven axe or two to cull the evil-hearted hardwoods._

 _No wonder it is called Mirkwood. More accurate to name it after its counterpart in Beleriand: Taur-Nu-Fuin. I have not seen anything green since leaving the valley of the Anduin._

 _I have heard from Haldir that the woodland folk do so call it. What kind of Elves can abide the weight of so much hatred and enmity? I wonder if we have more to fear from them than the orcs?_

 _Nay, surely it is not so bad as that. Moriquendi they are but still elf-kind. The silvan folk have never fallen to kinslaying._

 _An expert on the breed, are you?_

The twin Lords of Imladris ceased their internal conversation, each startled to have heard the brisk rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker somewhere amid the dense tree cover. They waited expectantly and the tattoo repeated; the sound reaching them from a fair distance away due east of their position. They shared a look that contained both their assessment and agreement to investigate and strode forward toward the noise, increasing their pace and tightening their grips upon their swords. Even as they walked another series of taps and clicks resounded. Elladan and Elrohir broke into a run, certain the percussions were not examples of common-place avian activity but signals shared between cunning silvan warriors. Where there were warriors there would be battle and the pair were determined to take part.

Yet though their speed was not insignificant, nothing beyond their own breathing and the faint compression of the earth beneath their boots could they detect. Another glance passed between them illustrative of confusion and foreboding yet they ran on. Abruptly, a new set of rapid-fire rhythmic rapping reached their ears, this time much nearer. Instantly they slowed to a stealthy trot. At last another noise made them grin in grim glee; a sharp grunt of anguish followed by a ponderous thud as a body fell to the ground. The combatants had commenced fighting.

Yet it was not any sort of warring they were accustomed to, for there was no clashing of swords, no shouting and clamouring, no calling of orders, no battle cries, nothing denoted the conflict was engaged save the continued shouts of the dying, the heavy concussion of lifeless flesh striking the earth, nevermore to rise. Again they reduced speed and cautiously crept forward as the crashing of fleeing bodies breaking through bracken arose, accompanied by panicked wheezing and whimpering. An orc materialised before them and skidded sharply to a stop, mouth agape and eyes bulging in terror. It turned, intending not to try its luck against their blades but to escape, and the next instant jerked violently and slumped to the ground with a stifled, gurgling yelp. An arrow fletched in bright gold protruded from the back of its neck. The body convulsed a few seconds until a second arrow sank deep into the base of the skull and ended the creature's suffering.

And then the silence returned.

More oppressive than before, the forest seemed burdened by the recent violence.

 _As if the energy expended to destroy seeks to infiltrate the fibre and grain of the wood._  Elrohir shuddered as this thought passed from him to his brother. His sight moved from the dead orc up into the branches. Nothing but the confusing and dizzying labyrinth of interlocking twigs and stems greeted his inspection. The archer who had dispatched the demon did not reveal himself.

 _Or herself, for it is said that in Mirkwood ellith fight as often as ellyn._  Elladan added his internal comment.

The brothers resumed their advance, stepping around the fallen orc, and in little more than a handful of strides came upon the main theatre of the battle. The ground was carpeted with the corpses of a battalion of orcish soldiers, heavily armoured and bearing shields.  Some had been archers, their quivers still filled with black-feathered bolts. Most were sword fighters, their crude weapons still clutched in their gnarled paws, unmarked by stain of blood. The attempt at defence had availed them naught, for the talent of the elven archers was such that even the smallest vulnerability in plate and mail had been discovered and penetrated.

 _I still feel eyes upon us, yet cannot focus on the place where this presence resides. I am glad these forest folk are not as you feared, muindor (brother), else we would be as these hapless foes by now._  Elladan was impressed with the silvans' expertise but could not help the uneasy crawling sensation slithering up his spine.

 _Indeed. Cunning and exceptional skill give them the advantage in this domain. I can envision now why so many silvans perished at Dagorlad. They must have little knowledge of such organised warfare on open ground._

 _Why do they not come forth? Are we meant to make the initial greeting?_

 _I know as little of their ways as do you. We have not been very thorough in planning how this scheme might be accomplished. I am not so sure our intervention will be tolerated._

 _Shall we abandon our cause so soon? What of our honour, still blemished by their King's unjust remarks? Would you have that notion of our neglect stand?_

 _Nay, I did not mean to imply that. I have no wish for such a low evaluation of our House to persist among these primitives. I only caution that we need to be wary of the outcome. An arrow can be embedded deeply without bringing death. I dislike the concept of being at the Wood Elves' mercy._

There was no reason to remain at the scene of carnage and so the brothers walked on. They followed a trail visible only to Elven eyes but other than this had no further indication of habitation by anything except the blighted trees. They lost track of the time that passed, too conscious of the unrelenting scrutiny to care.

Gradually, the environment changed and the character of the forest slowly transformed. From a depressing monochrome in shades of grey the scenery began showing hints of colour and wholesome life. After a time, brilliant columns of radiance pierced the gloom where clean, warm, afternoon sunlight streamed through breeches in the canopy. The familiar cacophony of competing bird calls dispelled the weighty quietude and the occasional rustle of wild game moving away from their advance met their hearing. The forest seemed to be thinning and even as the brothers shared this unspoken observation a calm voice called out to them.

"Mae govannen, Hîr o Imladris. Galu-en-Tawar am le." (Well met, Lords of Imladris. The blessings of the Great Wood upon you.)

Elladan and Elrohir stared. The owner of the voice was not an Elf at all. They found their sights trained upon a young human archer, obviously one of the woodsmen that dwelled in Mirkwood's core despite its dangerous reputation. He leaned casually upon a bow nearly as tall in stature as he and was dressed in the same shaded ochre and absinthe displayed by the foliage around him. Had he not spoken the twins would have walked past him without ever noting his presence, so bent was their perception upon the unseen watcher shadowing their trek. The Man was smiling with honest enjoyment at having caught two of the First-born by surprise.

"Mae govannen, adan uin eryn," (Well met, woodsman.) Elladan gave a polite nod and acknowledged the mortal's jesting grin with a rueful one. "You find us at a disadvantage, for we had expected the folk of Thranduil to greet us."

"I am of King Thranduil's realm," the man's brows uplifted in surprise for them not to realise this. "My people and the Wood Elves have been allies since long before my grandmother's grandmother was born. Berkley is my name."

"Verily, Berkeley, you are as canny and clandestine as any silvan," Elrohir smiled. "Yet you are not the one who has been watching us as we strolled along this pathway. Are we not to meet our woodland kin?"

"Aye, you shall indeed!" Berkley laughed heartily at their dismay but failed to reveal the identity of their stalker. "Come, for night falls swiftly over the forest and we are near my village. There you may await the dawn for it is not safe to travel afoot during the darkness of Ithil's hours."

Nothing else could they do without giving offence and thus Elladan and Elrohir found themselves in the colony of the human hunters. It was not what they expected, though in truth they had seldom given thought as to the design of such a settlement. Had they ever done so, the high fortifications would not have surprised them. As it was, they were admitted inside no less than three successive barriers of defence, each more stalwart than the next, each manned by archers and protected by scouts and wardens. The walls were formed of the mighty trunks of felled trees and topped with spikes of iron. A walk permitted the archers to span the entire length of the bulwark and the soldiers stood ready for whatever might attempt invading their territory. All stared in open curiosity as the foreign Elves passed by their posts.

Finally they reached the heart of the colony and Elladan and Elrohir were greeted with much deference and distinction by the elder of the folk, a woman of advanced age, white-haired with keen blue eyes that delved theirs boldly. She informed them that the captain of the Elves assigned to their region had alerted her people of the Imladrians' imminent arrival, begging the woodsmen's hospitality until the morrow. Then, the honoured visitors would be met by this captain and escorted to the King's stronghold to the north.

It was a long night for the Elven Lords.

They were treated with great courtesy, fed a filling meal of venison stew and flat bread, and plied with a very potent liquor that tasted of anise and looked like the Bruinen after a heavy rain: occluded and ominous. They were asked countless questions about the world west of the Misty Mountains and cajoled into telling tales of their many adventures, especially during the Battle of Fornost.

That these isolated people even knew of this struggle surprised the twins, for it had happened so many lives of men gone by. Even more surprising, the brothers learned the tale had been told to the woodsmen by Radagast and the story had become something of a legend. Perhaps the account gave them hope of routing the dark power that marred their lands. All of this Elladan and Elrohir accepted with the grace and cheer normal for their station and rank; indeed, everything about the quaint village and its simple people was delightful to them.

The evening wore on and the mortals retired for sleep, except for the watches manning the palisade and the patrol forming up. That was when trouble started.

Elladan and Elrohir prepared to leave with the patrol, a heavily armed group of fighters with both swords and bows ready for battle. As soon as their plan was understood, the elder had to be called, for the men refused to allow the Elves to join them. She was frightened and apologetic but also adamant and unwavering in her refusal to over-rule her warriors' decision. When pressed, she admitted this was the order of the silvan captain: that the Imladrian Elves were not to be included in the war party.

The twin lords withdrew their demands and said nothing more, perceiving that they had placed the humble Elder in an awkward situation: should they disregard the mandate she and her village would stand in disfavour of their silvan allies for failing to carry out this order. The sons of Elrond had no idea what form the consequences of such action might take. They withdrew apart and watched as the warriors filed out of the village.

Externally they remained aloof and calm yet internally they were outraged. There was no doubt in their minds that this insult was due to the King's lack of respect for them and their battle skills. By the time the first signs of dawn arrived, heralded by a crowing cock and a faint lessening of the dreary darkness, the brothers were ready to challenge the King to a duel in order to prove him wrong and force him to take back his derogatory words.

They watched as the men returned, weary and bearing two wounded. The woodsmen were filthy and stank, a sour odour unlike anything the twins had smelled before. Trained by their father in the healing arts, they offered their aid to the injured. The men were gracious but stated their comrades had been treated and would recover fully. Now Elladan would not hold his tongue, for to be spurned twice was too much.

"A field dressing, however well applied, is no substitute for a thorough examination and treatment to prevent infection. Do you doubt that we are capable of providing such care to humans? I assure you, the finest healers in all of Arda are trained in Imladris by my father and both my brother and I have tended Men, Elves and even Dwarves on occasion."

The poor warrior, Berkley, the same who had met them upon the path, bowed low and gazed from one to the other's angry eyes in dread. "I meant no offence, my Lords. I did not know the plague of our woods had found its way beyond the mountains. The Wood Elves supply us with the anti-venom for such cases, but if you have a more potent one we will gladly administer it."

"Anti-venom?" queried Elrohir. He met his brother's gaze as realisation overtook them both simultaneously. The men had not been fighting orcs but the giant spiders infesting the central portion of the forest. The younger twin let a shallow sigh escape his lungs, for clearly they were the ones in error.  _Of such injuries we know little. I believe it is for you to admit so, muindor._

Elladan was fully prepared to do just that, for he was never one to hide from his mistakes, but before he could speak another voice joined the discussion.

"Aye, a cure for the poisonous bite of a spider. Do you in fact have such a thing?" the coolly pronounced words were laced with sarcastic contempt and issued from a tall Wood Elf who had seemingly appeared from thin air so noiseless was his approach.

Elladan faced him and gave the warrior an appraising stare before he answered, dipping his head as he did. "Nay, I do not." He turned to Berkley and bowed from the waist. "Your pardon, for I misspoke, believing the injuries taken were from blade or bolt."

"Oh, no apologies to him are required; be at peace," the Elven warrior waved away Elladan's polite words and Berkley's presence with one sweep of his hand through the air, not bothering to temper his smug smile. "Suilad, Elladan and Elrohir, Lords of Imladris. Welcome to Taur-nu-Fuin. I am Inarthan, Mainonnen (First-born and Heir) of Thranduil. Forgive the rugged conditions of the initial night of your stay, but this is the peak of our hunting season. We must destroy as many of the foul arachnids as possible before they mate and lay eggs. I could not spare any of my warriors for your escort to the stronghold."

Inarthan looked down on Elladan, for he was at least a hand's span greater in stature than the twins, his smirky smile intact, leaning upon an ornate and impressively powerful war-bow much as Berkley had done the day before. The Prince of the Forest did not possess the physique of an archer, however, but that of a spear-bearer or lancer: solid and imposing with long well-muscled legs that looked as though he might be able to out-run a horse. His countenance was fair in the manner of all Elven folk with vibrant green eyes, a fine, straight nose, and a strong chin beneath full lips. He reminded the twins of the Teleri people they had met in Mithlond for Inarthan's Sindarin heritage was evident.

Hair the colour of flax fell in one long, thick braid down his back while two smaller plaits at each temple managed any shorted hairs that might get in the way of vision or the bow-string. Dressed in the same hue as the woodsmen, the cut of his garments was more refined and the fabric a fine silk embroidered richly at the neckline and hems. These were somewhat besmeared with evidence of the night's fighting and the same foetid stench clung to the elegant prince.

"No pardon is required," countered Elladan stiffly, "for the woodsmen's hospitality is of the very finest. Seldom are we so royally treated when amid the Rangers in the northern reaches of Eriador."

"Ah, that is well, then. We shall remain here for a bit to recover and wash this vile pollution from our persons before returning to the stronghold. It was a most successful campaign and I think we can safely consider the next generation of spiders to be significantly reduced this time. The King will be pleased and the Elder has ordered a celebratory feast this eve. If you will excuse me?" And without waiting for any answer the mighty prince turned on his heal and strode out through the open gates of the barricade.

 _Well._

 _Indeed._

The twins watched him depart with a strong sense of resentment for his haughty attitude and their prejudices were reinforced by this brief encounter, more determined than ever to bring the House of the Sindarin ruler down to a more realistic level. A soft cough garnered their attention and in unison they turned to see Berkley still hovering near, a rather sheepish look haunting his kindly, open visage.

"I beg pardon, my Lords. Inarthan can be a little…"

"Boorish? Conceited? Supercilious?" quipped Elrohir, grinning devilishly.

"Snobbish? Pretentious? Overbearing?" added Elladan with the identical expression transforming his features.

"Aye, and do not forget condescending, domineering and just plain rude," the man laughed, grateful the twins seemed to understand his Liege quite well and held no grudge against the villagers for it.

"I hope the younger son of Thranduil is not as vain," Elladan and his brother shared a look that was nearly predatory in its intensity but kept this hidden from their host.

"Oh, nay, Legolas is nothing at all like Inarthan. If you meet the young Lord, you will never even know he is of the same House, for he lives as one of the regular silvan warriors and nothing in his manner will give him away. You are more likely to find Legolas mucking out the stables or perfecting his archery than observing affairs of state in his father's court," Berkley smiled.

"There is a daughter as well," he elaborated. "Laerross (Summer Rain) is a gracious Lady with all the nobility of her elder brother and none of Inarthan's conceit. She serves as our Queen since her mother's death and her compassion prevents Inarthan from abandoning the woodsmen, for the King is beset by his grief and comes forth from his mountain no more."

"Yet you said the alliance betwixt your people and the Sindarin King has stood for many generations of human-kind. Why does Inarthan seek to end such an allegiance?" asked Elrohir.

"It is not that he wishes to discontinue the treaty between our people, but to honour it in a different way," explained Berkley. "The Shadow deepens and Inarthan wishes to concentrate his efforts on deposing the power in the Dark Tower. He feels too much of his time and resources are devoted to protecting our scattered colonies to achieve that end. He will tell you plainly that if not for this constant patrolling he would rid our forest of the pestilence once and for all.

"Many of our folk agree with him, yet we are not numerous enough to hold off the orcs should the Elves cease to hunt them in favour of assaulting Dol Guldur. Laerross speaks against his plans every time Inarthan seeks to sway the King, and Thranduil heeds her counsel even as he did his wife's. I have heard that it was always Rhûn'waew's (East Wind) desire to safeguard the mortals in her lands."

The twins assimilated this knowledge gratefully, finding Berkley's forthcoming nature quite a benefit to their plans. Elladan said, "That is news both good and ill, for while it is just for the King to keep faith with the ancient covenant, it was not known among our realm that Rhûn'waew had perished."

"I am not surprised. King Thranduil feels this is a private matter and tries to master his sorrow alone. It has been only twenty-five years, less than my own age. Now, as there is to be a feast I would ask your company on a hunt. We would have a boar and a buck to roast, Yavanna willing," replied Berkley.

"That would be most agreeable. I find myself in the mood to kill something," said Elrohir. His brother gave a short bark of laughter to indicate his concurrence and the trio left through the same gate the prince had used just moments ago.

Once beyond the outer perimeter of the settlement, it did not take long to locate signs of both quarries. Berkley and Elrohir elected to pursue the boar, a more aggressive beast inclined to turn and fight than to flee, while Elladan promised to bring back the buck. The hunters parted ways.

Elladan tracked his prey far into the deep cover of the wild woods, mindful of his surroundings and alert for any indication of danger. With the morning fully advanced, he knew there was little risk of running into orcs for the beasts could not abide the brighter light. The buck seemed to be making a circuit of his territory and Elladan found several marker trees where the deer had left his spoor.

Then a surprising sound reached his ears and he halted to listen more carefully. Just on the furthest limit of his hearing, he detected the strains of a fair Elven voice lifted in song. Intrigued, the Imladrian Lord followed this gentle melody and found to his amazement that the deer seemed to be drawn in the same direction. The closer he got the more beautiful the singing became and Elladan found himself wishing to discover this silvan crooner more than he desired to catch his prey. As it turned out, he achieved both goals.

Slowing to ensure his steps were not audible, he crept forward where the sound of the voice mingled with the pleasant accompaniment of softly tumbling water. Quite abruptly the trees parted at the bank of a small brook and he spied the creator of the musical vocalisation. A silvan youth stood naked within the water, bent over upon the lowly task of washing clothing, and sang to alleviate the boredom of the chore. Elladan was awe-struck, spellbound by both the beauty of the graceful form and the lilting quality of the silvan tongue. This was the first Wood Elf he had ever seen and he found the sight most pleasing, his lips uplifting in delight as he scrutinised the nude form before him.

The silvan was male, lean and lithe and small, compact and perfectly proportioned. His back was to the elder twin as he worked upon the laundering. Slender shoulders tapered to a narrow waist above slim hips and a firm rear. The legs attached there were very long and gave the impression of speed and agility. Elladan's eye followed these limbs until they disappeared beneath the water at mid-calf, and then traipsed back up, lingered on the graceful curve of the buttocks, and finally travelled back to the rippling shoulder muscles aiding the scrubbing work of the arms. Above the clavicles, an elegant neck supported a head crowned with hair the colour of the first rays of the sun at dawn, bound up in a solitary plait that trailed in the water it was so lengthy.

Elladan leaned against the tree beside him and simply absorbed the enchantment of this wood sprite's Song of voice and flesh. A motion on the opposite bank caught his eye and he nearly laughed aloud to find the buck caught in the same spell, gazing intently and without fear upon the young Elf.

The deer gave his regal, antlered head a toss and a soft wuffling breath issued from its nostrils. Keen black eyes flickered to Elladan but returned to studying the Wood Elf. The buck set his forelegs into the brook and waded out to greet the silvan singer. The song stopped as the youth laughed and stood straight. He used the soaked garment in his hands to send a showery wave of liquid over the deer, who playfully lowered his antlers but clearly had no intention of charging.

"What are you about, Hîr Aras?" (Lord Deer) said the youth to the hart. "Am I intruding upon your domain? Is my Song sufficient as tribute for my trespass?"

"Nay. Surely this is your domain and your subject but comes to confirm his fealty," Elladan answered from his spot behind the woodland fey. The result was as he desired, for the youth wheeled about in surprise and granted a full frontal view of his body. Hungrily Elladan's eyes documented firm pectorals and small rosy nipples, tightened by the cool environment of the stream, a taut, flat abdomen, and a lovely set of genitals nestled in wet, honey-coloured pubic curls. Elladan guessed the ellon could not be much beyond majority for there was about his carriage and his shape a callow uncertainty that spoke of adult form but newly achieved.

The silvan's features, once Elladan permitted his examination to reach them, made him catch his breath. Seldom did the First-born have cause to complain of their looks, but equally rare was such perfection. Fine boned with high cheeks and a firm chin, the face that greeted him held wide-set blue eyes the exact colour of a cloudless spring sky, opened wide in disbelief and clouded with embarrassment, that quickly dropped as a bright flush of scarlet stained the flawless skin.

"Ai Valar! How you startled me, Hîr! Forgive my nakedness; I had no idea anyone would be coming here this morn," he babbled as he splashed over to the bank in haste to grab up the shirt he had left there. He was having trouble getting it to co-operate with his design of covering himself, for he was dripping wet and the fabric was light and fine. It clung stubbornly about his shoulders as he struggled in vain to draw it down.

All this frantic motion served to make Elladan's smile grow even broader as the activity transformed the graceful form into an erotically inviting display of jiggling penis and testicles. A muffled oath as the youth tried to unbind the fabric where it was bunched up under his arms forced a laugh from the Imladrian's throat and halted the frenetic endeavour.

"Sîdh! There is no need for such commotion on my behalf. Your natural state is no offence to me, pen neth. On the contrary, never have I beheld more pleasing a vision. Here, let me aid you. Tell me, are all the silvan folk so enjoyable to look upon?" Without further ado Elladan strode to the youth, who froze in shock much like the buck still standing in the water, deftly whisked the garment back over the Elf's head and shook it out carefully. "Well, you have made it all wet now. I shall hang it yonder upon a branch to dry." He did this as he spoke and smiled when the naked silvan shut his gaping mouth and swallowed nervously, hands settling low over his belly to cover himself while hoping not to be obvious in doing so.

"Shy? I am surprised over such modesty. Who has taught you to guard such grace and beauty, preventing the rest of the world from admiring the handiwork of Eru and praising Him for such a gift? Here, if it will make you feel less awkward, I will mimic your estate." Thus saying, Elladan sat down and pulled off his boots, rose again, and calmly stripped down.

He made no effort to cover his semi-erect penis and chuckled to find the youth staring slack-jawed once more, gaze travelling up and down and back up slowly, very slowly. Elladan approached him and the silvan backed up, re-entering the stream with a subtle splash. Elladan went right in after him and finally the Elf halted, staring at him from huge round eyes in wary anticipation.

Their presence in the water broke the deer from its stupor; the hart leaped upon the bank and quickly vanished into the brush.

Elladan gave a mental shrug; he could trace the deer's path easily enough once he was better acquainted with the wood sprite. He reached out and gently fitted his fingers beneath the chin, shutting the ruby lips once more. The touch made the Wood Elf jump and indeed the contact was equally electric for him. He felt the tremor of excitement run through the lithe body ere he dropped his hand and his eyes as well, noting with satisfaction the beginnings of a fine erection filling the slender cock between the silvan's thighs.

Almost at once he felt an intense surge of instinctive guardianship race through him as his heart rate accelerated; it was plain this youth was untouched. Elladan's spirit swelled with both desire to possess and protect the ellon; he would open this one's heart before he claimed the virgin body for his own.    

Now it was the Peredhel's turn to be jolted by shock. Never had he experienced this sort of reaction for anyone but Elrohir. His brother and he were bound heart and soul and flesh; each completed the other in a way no one else could.  _Or so I thought until this moment._

Lust and desire and craving to know the delights of another's body, these sensations they shared and many Elves had they bedded, together, to satisfy this end. None of these lovers were more than temporary dalliances. What was pounding through Elladan's veins right this moment was nothing at all like those casual affairs. He wanted this elf for his own, apart from his wanting of Elrohir, and he wanted him all to himself.

"What is your name?" he asked quietly, stepping back a pace to indicate there was nothing to fear from his blatant desire, the tone of his voice soothing and calming.

"Cuthenin," answered the fair youth and smiled, less nervous now for he could see in the stranger's eyes that nothing would be asked of him that he was not ready to give. He let the tension leave him and permitted the thrilling tingle of excited arousal to replace it. If this Elf was not ashamed to show his body's honest reaction then he would not be either.

"Mae govannen. I am…"

"I know who you are. One of the famous Lords of Imladris, great warriors both. Is…is your brother here as well?" As this thought broke through his previous haze of surprise and awakening desire, Cuthenin became nervous again, glancing all around and even up into the branches to look for where his companion's double might be watching, concealed amid the trees.

"Nay, he is far away. Elrohir is hunting for a boar with Berkley in the woods."

"Then you are Elladan."

"I am. Well now, this is a tiresome task you were set upon before I interrupted you." Elladan frowned at the heap of dirty clothing still to be washed and the sodden mass of tunics and leggings and underwear soaking in the shallows. "If you will agree to help me complete my assigned duty for the day, I will aid you in yours." He reached down, quite aware he was presenting a very tempting view of his backside, and took up the cake of soap and one of the tunics.

"Oh! Nay, Hiren! (my Lord) That would not be right. You are a guest among my people and a renowned Lord of the Golodhrim." (Deep Elves - Noldor) Cuthenin snatched the garment away and made a grab for the soap, but Elladan playfully hoisted it out of reach and splashed away, laughing.

"If I am as great a Lord as you say, then I may do as I please. Today it pleases me to wash laundry." He dodged as the silvan came after him and plunged his free hand into the water, sending up a bright curtain of water droplets between them.

Cuthenin laughed and made another try for the soap only to find his wrist caught in the powerful grip of the beguiling Lord from Imladris. He gasped and instinctively pulled back, not knowing that was what Elladan had intended, and succeeded in jerking the virile form flush against his body.

The heat between them stole his breath and the potent fullness pressed into his belly was a sensation both unfamiliar and thoroughly exciting. He found his vision locked upon the parted carmine lips so near to his and unconsciously licked his own as he wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by this Elf. He did not have to ponder it long, for no sooner had he raised his eyes to Elladan's mesmerising grey orbs than the Elf Lord bent and carefully caressed his mouth, a warm, wet tongue cautiously probing between his teeth to briefly taste him before retreating.

It was over too soon and Cuthenin was left with a dreamy smile as Elladan stepped away again and took up a set of leggings from the pile. The silvan watched him work for a minute. "I see that you are determined to have your way," he said and tentatively approached. "What, then, is this duty you must fulfil?"

Elladan looked up and smiled, stopping long enough to break the cake of soap in twain and hand Cuthenin one half. They both resumed their scrubbing as he answered. "I am to bring in a buck for the feast. That is how I found you; your friend led me here. I shall not be able to kill him now, for he has done me such a great service. Thus, you must help me track down another, one I will have no qualms about felling."

"Agreed," said Cuthenin and bestowed the full brilliance of his open smile upon his companion. If he noticed that Elladan ceased all activity, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of this expression, he gave no indication that anything was amiss. He resumed his cheerful song and set to work with renewed fervour.

 **Present Time, in the gazebo of Meril Thaifn:**

"And that is how I met Legolas," said Elladan, his voice subdued and filled with something almost like awe. Erestor and Elrohir's eyes were fixed upon him in rapt attentiveness, enthralled by the tale as if they had been there to see these events unfold, though even for the younger twin this was the story's first hearing. "At the time, however," Elladan continued, "I had no idea that Cuthenin and Legolas Thranduilion were one and the same."

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is all there is. I quite love this story and was having great fun writing it, but people were bored and did not love it as I did. So one complaint too many about how long it was taking me to get the elves into the Severed Realm killed it for me. Maybe I will revisit it someday and get it finished.


End file.
